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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26757880">Dark Gray</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/colormyheartred/pseuds/colormyheartred'>colormyheartred</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Once Upon a Time (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Lighthouse Keeper, Slow Burn, daddy killian, mommy emma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:07:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>54,208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26757880</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/colormyheartred/pseuds/colormyheartred</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian Jones operates a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, preferring a life of isolation, until one day a woman and a baby wash up on his little island and change his life forever.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Captain Hook | Killian Jones &amp; Henry Mills, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Henry Mills &amp; Emma Swan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>250</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! I know what you’re thinking… I’ve seen this story before, haven’t I? Yes. Yes you have. (Though, if you’re new to this story, hello and welcome, please enjoy!) </p>
<p>I deleted it a while ago thinking it wasn’t fair to leave it up unfinished if I had no plans to continue writing. But, literally out of the blue the other day, inspiration hit me and I was able to actually finish it! Can you believe it? I can’t. </p>
<p>So, rather than keeping it for myself and my own enjoyment, I thought I’d share with anyone who still wanted to see how this tale ends. I know it had a bit of a following and I still get questions about it to this day. </p>
<p>As an added benefit of this reposting, I’ve made some grammatical changes (because sometimes you re-read and you go, wow yikes I messed that up lol) and added some extra bits here and there to add some color and zing. May as well, right? </p>
<p>Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! And I swear it’s going to be finished this time. I have an actual ending written and ready to publish! </p>
<p>If you just want to read the new parts, tune back in for chapters 14 and onward :)</p>
<p>Love you friends! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One</p>
<p>He slams the front door closed and it squeaks on its hinges, swinging and clattering against its cracked and broken frame.</p>
<p>He shoves his fist into his jacket pocket, straightening his gaze ahead of him with a white huff of his breath in the frigid air to mingle with the fog that has descended onto the island. </p>
<p>His boots crunch on the rocks as he carries himself onward and he takes note of all the things he has in store for his day. It isn't much, never is, and he curses his sailor's blood for the ungodly hours.</p>
<p>The ground is still damp from last night's storm and the air still smells of it. It had been an unruly thing, the storm, and he'd woken several times at the sound of lightning spiking nearby.</p>
<p>As he walks toward the lighthouse, he shifts his gaze to the ocean that's lapping up against the shore nearby. The water sprays at him and he grits his teeth, breathing in salty gusts of air through his nose.</p>
<p>He narrows his eyes, stopping dead in his tracks the instant he notices a lump lying at the shore, the foaming water washing over every few moments. </p>
<p>The blood drains from his face and his heart begins to pound just a little bit faster, a throbbing beginning to sound in his ears.</p>
<p>He stares for a moment longer, then shifts his gaze a little further up the shore to a brown basket nestled in seaweed and wet sand. </p>
<p>Curiouser and curiouser.</p>
<p>His brow furrows slightly and he pulls his hand free from his jacket so he can comb through his hair nervously.</p>
<p>He starts for the two washed up mysteries quickly, breaths coming out in nervous, shaking huffs, and when he reaches the blue lump, he kneels down beside it. </p>
<p>It's a <em>woman</em>.</p>
<p>She appears to be a few years his junior with sopping wet blonde hair and fair skin. When he examines her, she's breathing, but she's passed out cold. There’s blood oozing from a wound in her forehead and he's sure something's wrong with her leg, because it's twisted obscurely.</p>
<p>He winces a little, unsure of what to do. He's about to stand and lift her over his shoulder to help her when a high-pitched squeaking and crying emanates from a little further down the beach in the brown basket.</p>
<p>He can hardly hear the ocean now with how loudly his heart races in his ears.</p>
<p>He rises slowly, cursing under his breath as he makes his way toward it.</p>
<p>"Bloody hell," he mutters, looking down at the basket.</p>
<p>There is a baby, not a <em>small</em> baby, but a baby nonetheless, lying inside, wrapped tight in a blanket, squirming and crying. It's cheeks are red and it looks absolutely miserable.</p>
<p>He can't blame him. A day like today leaves much to be desired.</p>
<p>Killian Jones crouches down beside the child and holds out his arms, glaring briefly at his hook for a left hand, then, with a shake of his head, he reaches in and carefully lifts the child into the crook of his arm. </p>
<p>Having never held a screaming baby before in his entire life, he hasn't a clue of what to do. He bites down on his tongue and grimaces.</p>
<p>"Quiet down," he tries, "You'll get nowhere crying like that."</p>
<p>The child, miraculously, stops.</p>
<p>Killian sighs. "Let's get you inside then. Can't have you out to freeze, hm?"</p>
<p>He stands again, reaching down for the basket with his hand before turning to trudge back to his residence. Worry fills him from head to toe as he looks at the woman again.</p>
<p>Since she's out of it, she can wait until he's settled the child down. He thinks he knows better than to leave such a small human being out in the cold of the morning with no nourishment or comfort.</p>
<p>The baby squirms in his hold and he winces again in fear, because it isn't as if he has a firm hold on the fragile being. He finds his pace quickening almost instinctively. </p>
<p>Killian pulls the door open with his index finger and it slams behind him loud enough that it makes the child cry again. He starts hushing it as he sets the basket on the table in his kitchen, knocking over a bottle of beer from last night in the process.</p>
<p>He doesn't bother to clean up his mess, deciding to take the child into the small living room off of the kitchen where he builds a cradle of sorts out of blankets and pillows he can find.</p>
<p>He settles the fussing child down into the center of the mess and goes to stoke at the fire that's dying out in the fireplace. While it's warming up, he goes into the kitchen for milk. </p>
<p>He thinks that's what babies eat, right?</p>
<p>He isn't sure if it should be cold or warm and hesitates with the milk glass for a few moments, struggling to even find something to use that will fit in the child’s mouth. He decides on using a cleaned beer bottle for the time being and warms up the milk in the microwave before pouring it into the bottle and carrying it into the living room.</p>
<p>"Here we are," he says gruffly, setting himself down next to the lump in his couch. He awkwardly shifts the baby and uses his thumb to cut off the flow as he settles the lip against the child's mouth. "In we go. You're hungry, aye?"</p>
<p>It takes a few moments and some of the milk dribbles out on the baby's chin, but eventually, all of the milk goes straight into the hungry child's stomach, the baby's eyes falling closed as it continues to suckle.</p>
<p>Killian figures he'll have to find something to use as diaper cloths. He'll do that after bringing the woman inside.</p>
<p>It's a mystery to him <em>how</em> two people could wash up on his island. </p>
<p>It isn’t as if he’s in a highly trafficked area. It's not even in a shipping lane. In fact, ships rarely come along- only for his monthly supplies. </p>
<p>After the boy finishes the milk, Killian puts the beer bottle on the floor and looks down at the child with a furrowed brow. </p>
<p>He hasn't spent nearly enough time around children to know what to do with him now that he's eaten, and Killian sighs as he decides to strip him of the damp blanket and outfit he's sporting.</p>
<p>Killian tucks the boy into the pillows and blankets again, covering him up so he thinks he's warm, and then carries the wet and cold items over to the fire, hanging them to dry.</p>
<p>With one final check on the sleepy child, he nods to himself and zips up his coat to go grab the mystery woman.</p>
<p>He isn't a horrible man. He likes to think himself rather good on his better days. But he isn't a man who enjoys the company of others. In fact, one of the reasons he's still on this island is because he can't stand himself around others. </p>
<p>He can't <em>trust</em> himself around others.</p>
<p>Killian takes a sharp breath of the cold air and lets it back out of his nose, eyes set determinedly on the blue and yellow lump on the shore. </p>
<p>When he reaches her, he sighs, balling up his hand tightly into a fist before leaning down to scoop her up and onto his shoulder. He's careful with his hook and he grunts a bit when her weight is added to him. She's not very heavy, but he's not used to carrying much weight, so he is quick when he makes his way back to his home.</p>
<p>He moves with expertise through the small residence to his bedroom, the only bedroom, and settles her down on his bed.</p>
<p>She's absolutely soaked to the bone and incredibly cold to the touch. Her blonde hair fans around her head, some of the strands sticking to her peaceful cheeks and forehead. </p>
<p>She's still blissfully unaware of anything that's happened, so Killian hesitates for a moment longer before deciding to start the fire in his room.</p>
<p>As soon as the flames breathe warmth into the small room, he goes to the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulls out blankets to cover her with.</p>
<p>He decides that he should take her dress off to try to avoid hypothermia, so he takes a deep breath, leaves the blankets at her feet, and sets to peeling the wet article from her flesh.</p>
<p>Luckily for him, she's out enough that she doesn't wake as he's taking her britches off, and he purposefully covers her with blankets before he goes to find her something of his to wear in place of her dress while it dries.</p>
<p>Carefully, Killian puts a long sleeved shirt over her top and a pair of loose-fitting pants over her bottom, then slides a pair of socks over her feet and covers her with three blankets, ensuring her entire body is tucked safely and securely beneath them.</p>
<p>Her teeth have begun chattering, a new development that’s somewhat assuring.</p>
<p>In the process of slipping the pants on, he'd noticed bruising around her right knee and his thoughts easily drift to wondering what could've happened to her, but he can't know until she wakes, so he stores his curiosity and continues to ensure she's sufficiently warmed.</p>
<p>He figures he'll have to tend to her wounds later when she's awake and can tell him more and decides to go check on the child instead while she sleeps. </p>
<p>Killian leaves his bedroom after draping the woman's clothes over the fire to dry. His boots clump along the hardwood floor noisily and he sighs as he settles onto the couch beside the sleeping babe.</p>
<p>If there was anything he'd imagined his day as being like, it wasn't this.</p>
<p>He was supposed to check on the lightbulbs and make note of what needed fixing after the storm, get started on the list, and then drink himself to sleep after a supper of whatever he might scrounge up.</p>
<p>He isn't sure he can just leave the child and the woman here, not when they might wake up at any moment, so he watches the tiny being as he breathes before nodding in affirmation and carrying the tentative baby bottle into the kitchen.</p>
<p>Killian goes about fixing a stew from what he's got in the pantry and figures a way to feed the child with things in his cabinets.</p>
<p>He's sure the woman will be quick to mother him. Perhaps the child belongs to her- he isn't sure. </p>
<p>And anyway, he won't be stuck with them for very long. Just four weeks before the supply ship comes and he'll send them out and away from him again. He'll just have to deal with them in the meanwhile.</p>
<p>He settles back against the cabinets as the stew cooks on the stove, thinking about what he'll do about sleeping arrangements for the coming few weeks, when he hears the child erupt into a screaming cry.</p>
<p>He springs to work, grabbing the already heated milk from the stovetop and bringing the new bottle with him so he can comfort the infant if it's what it needs.</p>
<p>Killian sits beside the lump of blankets and pillows and lifts the child, whose fussing comes to hiccups as he settles him into his arms.</p>
<p>He frowns at the baby. "'s that all?" </p>
<p>He doesn't enjoy holding the child. It's awkward and uncomfortable and it reminds him all too much of a past he'd very much like to forget, so he sets the boy down again and is greeted by his wails once more.</p>
<p>He growls a little, shaking his head.</p>
<p>"You don't understand," Killian says sternly. "I can't hold you."</p>
<p>For a moment, they're sitting there in a stare-off of sorts, and Killian locks his jaw, shaking his head again before opening his mouth to reprimand the shrieking child when his bedroom door opens.</p>
<p>His gaze shifts immediately to the woman, who looks pale and sickly, leaning against the door jamb with all of her weight.</p>
<p>He stands, holding his arms out as she staggers a little.</p>
<p>She swallows and opens her mouth, looking down at the screaming bundle of flailing limbs on the couch.</p>
<p>Killian hastily lifts the boy into his hold to quiet him again and it works. It's overwhelming to hear his cries, to say the least, and when he moves to go to her, she follows him with her emerald eyes.</p>
<p>"Where am I?" she asks, voice wavering.</p>
<p>He shakes his head. "Don't worry yourself with that. You need to get back into bed."</p>
<p>Killian sets the child down with a wince of anticipation, receiving what he prepared for when the child bursts out in upset. He herds the woman back into the room and watches her cautiously as she limps back to the bed.</p>
<p>She groans and pain creases her forehead when she lies back down. "I heard... <em>crying</em>."</p>
<p>He nods and somehow tucks her back in under the blankets.</p>
<p>"Aye. Apologies. The child appears to have quite the set of lungs." She blinks a few times and he finds himself without words. "Is he… um, yours?"</p>
<p>The woman shakes her head, wincing a little. "No." </p>
<p>Killian runs his eyes down to the base of the bed and shakes his head again, a sigh slipping from his lips at the development. He looks back to her face. </p>
<p>"I'm Emma."</p>
<p>Killian hesitates, shifting a bit on his feet while he examines her sick face. He doesn't know what to do about her. She's clearly running a fever and it's not like he can force her to rest if she doesn't want to. </p>
<p>"Emma, why don't you get some sleep? You don't look well."</p>
<p>She scoffs, closing her eyes. "There was a storm and I fell from the top deck of the ship. I think I broke my leg."</p>
<p>She winces, then reaches down to pull the blankets away. </p>
<p>Bloody maddening woman. </p>
<p>She examines the leg with pain written in her features and he mentally groans, because he certainly is no doctor and she's stranded here with him for another few weeks.</p>
<p>"I could... try and set it," he tells her quietly. Her gaze flits over to him and he sees apprehension in those solid green eyes. "I set many bones in my time in the navy."</p>
<p>She studies him for a second before falling back with a loud sigh.</p>
<p>"Fine."</p>
<p>He eyes her warily, unmoving.</p>
<p>From the other room, the child is still screeching and sobbing and it's making his blood boil angrily, because he is no longer on his own. He no longer has the stability and security of being by himself. He has two people, two needy people, that he's responsible for.</p>
<p>In all of his time as caretaker of the lighthouse, it's been task after task and menial chores, followed by drinking and television- if the damn satellite worked.</p>
<p>It gets lonely, but he's better that way. He can't hurt anyone if he's by himself.</p>
<p>As his hand settles against her bare leg, he searches for the break. He gives her no warning, which in hindsight was a bloody awful idea, and she screams when he sets the bone with a loud crack.</p>
<p>Two screaming strangers in his tiny home on an island in the middle of nowhere. Bloody perfect.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two</p>
<p>The second time she wakes in an unfamiliar bed, it hurts a hell of a lot more than it had the first time, which seems like it wouldn't be the case, but it is.</p>
<p>The room is dark with the exception of the warm orange glow of the fire and instead of the screaming child, she hears only the fire crackling timidly. Emma sighs as she tosses her head to the side.</p>
<p>She supposes that she should be grateful that someone was able to help her, that she isn't forced to deal with a broken leg and scarring in her forehead or the residual chills from nearly drowning in a freezing sea in the middle of a storm.</p>
<p>But her rescuer is no Prince Charming. Far from it, actually. The guy is almost as cold as the ocean and he's freakishly dark and terrifying.</p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, Emma pushes herself up into sitting position to examine her knee. He'd set it and the bruising is still there, but the bandage he'd wrapped around it to keep it in place covers most of the damage she'd seen for a few fractions of a second here or there.</p>
<p>Emma whips the blankets off of her and gets out of the bed, her feet slipping as they hit the hardwood floors.</p>
<p>She looks down at the outfit she's been dressed in, musing over how large and baggy they are, and after a glance around the room, she discovers her wet clothes still drying over the fire.</p>
<p>Emma forces herself to go to the fire so she can inspect the articles hanging above the heat.</p>
<p>Crinkling her nose, she decides to keep the sagging clothes on instead, wrapping her arms over her chest protectively. She's a little perturbed that he'd re-dressed her, that he'd seen her bare. Chills run down her spine at the mere idea.</p>
<p>With determination in her step, Emma opens the door, and walks out in time to hear shattering glass and a hiss, followed by, "Bloody hell!"</p>
<p>She walks cautiously, glancing around the room.</p>
<p>It's quaint. Very small, but livable, if you lived alone.</p>
<p>There's a tiny television sitting on a wooden stand across from the sofa. One wall is built with bookshelves installed inside and is full of literature. The fire is beside the television and there is also a lamp that provides low light to the sofa atop of a side table. The floor is covered in a foreign looking rug, one that might have been made by native culture, and she bites her lip as she considers <em>where</em> exactly the boat had thrown her off to.</p>
<p>They'd been on their way home to Maine, back from a trip to England, and the storm had been a mysterious surprise in the middle of nowhere. The ship may have gone down, she isn't sure. All she knows is that she was thrust off and found something to hold onto before she fell unconscious.</p>
<p>On the sofa, she discovers a pile of strategically placed pillows and blankets surrounding a lump that upon closer examination is a child. She frowns at the sight of him.</p>
<p>While he <em>is</em> asleep, he doesn't look very comfortable.</p>
<p>Emma glances over to the open doorway to where she supposes the kitchen must be, for that is where her Savior is cursing himself out in low tones.</p>
<p>The child stirs in his sleep and fusses, pulling at her heartstrings so that she leans in and lifts him to her chest, shushing him softly with a finger to his cheek.</p>
<p>Emma smiles a little, because growing up she'd always wanted a little baby brother or sister to play with, but her parents weren't able to conceive and they didn't want to adopt again, thinking she was more than enough for them.</p>
<p>Emma isn't sure where this little guy came from. She doesn't think there was a baby on the ship, but then again, she'd been kind of absorbed in worry about what she'd say to Neal come her return to Storybrooke.</p>
<p>She hears the clatter of boots on the floor at an ever-loudening pace and glances up from the child when they stop. He is standing at the door frame with a beer bottle in his hand, a tired look on his face that shifts slightly into confusion at the sight of her.</p>
<p>Emma opens her mouth for a moment considering what she should say before he speaks, gesturing to her with the hand holding the bottle, "You shouldn't be up on that leg."</p>
<p>Emma sighs and sinks down onto the couch with a sigh. "Better?"</p>
<p>His jaw clenches and he doesn't look happy with her, staying in the door frame for a moment longer before stepping into the room.</p>
<p>"Here. Milk for the child."</p>
<p>She stares at him with narrowed eyes before yanking the beer bottle from him. "I'm not here to be a nursemaid for some kid that you don't want to take care of. I don't know where he came from just as much as you."</p>
<p>The man gives her a thin smile as he lifts his eyebrows. "Well, I don't see his parents anywhere near here, so you'll do."</p>
<p>Emma gapes at him for a moment. "Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I'm naturally maternal."</p>
<p>"And just because I've brought you into my home, that doesn't mean I'm friendly."</p>
<p>She glares at him and he at her. He pinches up a fake smile and drops it as he storms out of the room again.</p>
<p>Emma rolls her eyes as she fiddles with the beer bottle in her hand, furious that she's even here. She'll have to leave first thing in the morning, get on a boat back to America and figure out whether or not her parents made it back yet.</p>
<p>She struggles to feed the child for a moment, because the hole doesn't work with feeding a baby, but she adapts, pressing her thumb over the hole just enough that he can access the fluid easily. She listens to him as he eats and watches for signs of his being finished, and when he is, she sets the bottle down on the floor and pulls him up to burp him.</p>
<p>The boots come charging back into the room and she shoots her eyes up to meet the dark blues that are the man's.</p>
<p>"I'll be out of your hair in the morning," she tells him.</p>
<p>He stares at her silently for a few long moments and shakes his head.</p>
<p>"Next ship to come through here isn't for four weeks." Emma furrows her brow, about to ask one of the hundred questions on the tip of her tongue, but he interrupts, "Small island in the middle of nowhere, love. I'm afraid we're stuck with each other until Smee comes with supplies."</p>
<p>She wants to scream, because, well, he is the worst person she's ever met, and apparently he has very little respect for her outside of the fact that he wants to help her not <em>die</em>.</p>
<p>Her eyes go wide at his statement and she watches him as he crosses the room to put a bowl of something on the side table under the sickly orange glow of the lamp. The spoon in the bowl clatters upon being set down and she glares when he steps back to look at her.</p>
<p>"I feel some ground rules will be important," he tells her, eyeing her warily.</p>
<p>Emma scoffs. "Ground rules, really? How old do you think I am?"</p>
<p>He gives her that tight, mocking smile again and crouches down in front of her in the most demeaning way.</p>
<p>The baby gurgles out puke onto her and she doesn't care, because it's his shirt and she'll just change in a few minutes. Or maybe she'll wear it and smell up his living room for a while.</p>
<p>She lowers the child into her arms as he speaks.</p>
<p>"Rule number one. You will care for the child for as long as we're stuck together."</p>
<p>She gapes at him for a second and shakes her head. "Woah there, buddy. I told you I don't do kids."</p>
<p>He lifts his eyebrows as if challenging her and she copies him, but he doesn't break.</p>
<p>Emma sighs heavily. She's forced into a corner here. If he won't do it, or can't, then who will?</p>
<p>"Fine. If you're not going to take care of him." She looks down at the bundle in her arms. "I don't think we should call him <em>kid</em> or whatever, though. He needs a name. That's my stipulation if you're going to make me take care of him."</p>
<p>She watches the man as he pulls his teeth over his lower lip for a thoughtful moment.</p>
<p>"Okay. What do you suggest?"</p>
<p>Emma wants to make <em>him</em> name the kid, but she realizes as she opens her mouth to complain that he would probably pick something ridiculous and she would end up naming it anyway. She looks back down at the baby and examines him.</p>
<p>"Henry." She looks back at him. "He looks like one at least."</p>
<p>The man nods. "Alright, Henry it is."</p>
<p>"You need to tell me your name, too." He stares at her with his lips pressed into a thin line. "I told you mine. He has one." Emma narrows her eyes. "Give me yours so I know which name to avoid for the rest of my life."</p>
<p>He chuckles darkly at her.</p>
<p>"Killian Jones," he says. "A pleasure." She rolls her eyes at the tone of his voice. "Rule number two: I have my set of tasks and chores and I will not be interrupted for any reason."</p>
<p>Emma sighs. "Fine by me."</p>
<p>Killian glances down at the floor. "You will sleep here, with Henry. There will be no complaining or whining of any sort, and you will stay here at all times. No venturing out onto the island on your own. Especially with that leg."</p>
<p>He gestures to her with his left hand… er, <em>hook</em>- how absurd is it that she'd managed to find one of the only people in the world with a hook for a hand?- and she sighs again.</p>
<p>"Okay, fine. Anything else you want to enforce, Captain <em>Hook</em>?"</p>
<p>He stares at her, gritting his teeth, and he gives his head a shake. "Keep out of my way and I think we'll be just fine for these four weeks."</p>
<p>She watches him, hand and hook, stand again, and she thinks for a moment that she's won something in the way he's moving out of the room with a vicious sort of walk.</p>
<p>It might be easier to loathe him if he weren't so ruggedly handsome.</p>
<p>She sighs as she looks down at Henry, giving him a tiny smile when he babbles a little bit. He does have a cute face and she kind of likes him, regardless of what she might have thought otherwise before.</p>
<p>Emma doesn't know what to do with Henry, so she just leaves him in his pile of pillows while she tries to figure out what the bowl and spoon Killian had set down for her are.</p>
<p>It's stew, she thinks, stirring the spoon around and taking a sniff of it. She decides that she's too hungry to protest his attempt at potentially poisoning her and inhales her food, listening to him slam things around in the kitchen.</p>
<p>She gets that he has a deal, because everyone always has a deal.</p>
<p>Hell, <em>she</em> has a deal. She doesn't like anyone getting close to her because if they do, she's afraid she'll hurt them, or they'll hurt her, and she cannot let that happen.</p>
<p>After she finishes the stew that tastes more like the can that it came from than anything else, she sets the bowl down on the table and winces as she pulls herself up to go change clothes.</p>
<p>She discovers clothes in the dresser of his room and throws the first thing she can find over her head, disregarding the dirtied shirt on top of the dresser for him to deal with. She takes the blanket and carries it with her to the sofa, where she turns the light off and somehow gets into a comfortable position with Henry at her feet.</p>
<p>She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath, listening as Killian sits down at what must be a table in the kitchen, the chair making a loud screeching against the floor. He sighs and she hears a click, probably a beer, before the definite sound of him taking a sip.</p>
<p>Obnoxious man.</p>
<p>How she'll ever last four weeks with him is a mystery she isn't sure she's going to be able to live long enough to find out.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>Killian sighs heavily as he pushes open the door to his lighthouse. It's on, the sweeping light blasting it's beams across the water and cutting through the foggy night, but he's not here to tend to the light that cuts through the darkness.</p>
<p>There is a wooden desk and chair that he sits at with a beer in hand. Perched atop the desk is his radio: his one and only method of communication with the outside world. Thoughtfully, Killian bites on his lower lip as he stares at it.</p>
<p>His supplies are running lower than usual and even with his emergency stashes of food and water, he's not sure he'll be able to keep them all alive for four weeks. Three human beings on one island, in one tiny house, had never been the plan.</p>
<p>Killian likes to think he knows right from wrong and that's why he's staring at his radio now. Within a few minutes, he could have Mister Smee well on his way toward him with blankets, food, and a plan for them to return to whence they came.</p>
<p>Determined, he grabs the radio and flips the on switch, listening as the radio garbles and hisses. If he does this, they'll both be home in no time, leaving him here all alone with his thoughts once more.</p>
<p>It's all he's ever needed, right?</p>
<p>For whatever reason, his chest tightens as he summons the courage to radio out. He can feel his heart begin to race, a throbbing swelling up in his ears while he waits for a reply.</p>
<p>Nothing. Silence.</p>
<p>If they don't leave now, he's stuck with them. He's stuck with taking care of them. Of allowing himself to feel something other than the emptiness he's clung to for these past few years.</p>
<p>Killian sits back in his chair. He takes his fingers through his hair and stares at the device. A wave of desperation washes over him, suddenly feeling as if he's being forced to do something he very much doesn't want to do.</p>
<p>He needs them gone. He can't keep them here.</p>
<p>So he calls again.</p>
<p>And he calls again.</p>
<p>And again.</p>
<p>Absolutely <em>nothing</em>.</p>
<p>In an instant, he is filled with rage. Furious, he grabs the radio from his desk and throws across the room, shattering it completely into pieces on the floor of his lighthouse.</p>
<p>Just as quickly as he'd lashed out, he realizes his fault with tears burning behind his eyes. Killian closes his eyes tight, willing himself to find his calm even if he feels like he's teetering over the edge of an emotional breakdown.</p>
<p>He tugs open the lower drawer of his desk for the rum. He needs something just a little bit stronger if he's going to make it through the night.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three</p>
<p>When Emma wakes up, it is to the sound of a door slamming shut.</p>
<p>She bolts upright on the couch and her eyes are wide, her heart racing with confusion and fear, before she realizes that it is the morning and that her one-handed friend must have just left the tiny house to start his <em>chores.</em></p>
<p>She sighs as she sits there, contemplating lying back down and sleeping for a while longer, but then she chooses to get up and search for the bathroom instead.</p>
<p>Logically, she searches the bedroom first, but finds nothing but piles of things lying where she swears they hadn't been the night before.</p>
<p>On a groan, she starts limping her way back through the living room, where she realizes that the man whose distorted version of kindness she's taking advantage of is living in filth.</p>
<p>There is trash everywhere and things aren't exactly in tip-top shape for a Navy Man, so she wonders as she walks through the disaster area of a kitchen, if he just doesn't clean.</p>
<p>There are flies swarming an overflowing trash can in the kitchen by the front door and there are scuff marks everywhere from his boots, which makes her roll her eyes. If he'd just pick up his feet, the floor would be less of a tragedy than it is.</p>
<p>She finds the bathroom, a tiny little thing, tucked back by the kitchen table, which is itself cluttered in dishes, beer bottles, and piles of notebooks and papers.</p>
<p>When she opens the door to the restroom, she is overwhelmed by the scent of grime and scrunches her nose as she manages to drop the toilet lid.</p>
<p>Emma examines the little room as she stands there, wincing at what looks like the start of mold on the wall of the shower, and she discovers a colony of ants that are nonsensically marching their way along the crumbling molding.</p>
<p>This man lives in a pigsty and she is being forced to share it with him for four weeks. <em>Great.</em></p>
<p>After she discovers that he doesn't have any soap and that the water only runs cold in the sink, she pulls open the squealing door and studies the rest of his kitchen and pantry.</p>
<p>She finds that the ants continue to march into the storeroom, where he's left some food haphazardly spilt on the floor. She huffs and shakes her head, then goes to see if he has any cleaning supplies tucked away anywhere.</p>
<p>Emma discovers that he does have <em>some</em> cleaning supplies, but they appear to have never been touched or even considered as useful. They're crammed into a portion of the storeroom behind light bulbs and barrels of water that she has to work at to grab them. He has a vacuum cleaner, but she doubts it would work without the cord that has clearly been cut off for some reason.</p>
<p>She looks through the shelves of food and finds that there isn't much here. She figures he must have an emergency stash somewhere, and she decides she'll ask him about it later. If they're going to be stuck here together for a month, she's not going to be the one that suffers because they don't have enough to eat.</p>
<p>On her way back toward the living room where Henry's silence indicates he's sleeping, Emma stares at the bathroom door, at the paint chipped walls, and the ants marching along the cracked crown molding.</p>
<p>Almost compulsively, she goes to work cleaning the house right away.</p>
<p>She starts in that disgusting mess of a bathroom and scrubs every surface until she is satisfied that she won't contract a disease if she were to visit it again and it smells like a cleaning solution, a clear sign that it has been sanitized.</p>
<p>If her mother were here, she probably wouldn't believe that Emma Nolan would ever risk another injury while nursing one already in order to scrub behind the dusty, grimy toilet base.</p>
<p>Her leg is in a lot of pain by the time she finishes tidying up the kitchen and storeroom, so after wiping the dust off of the shelves of the bookshelves in the living room, Emma tends to Henry and then lies down again.</p>
<p>Killian hasn't returned yet, which is probably for the best, and she closes her eyes with the duster still in her hand.</p>
<p>When she opens her eyes again, it's because Henry starts fussing. It doesn't feel like it's been long enough for her to have slept long at all.</p>
<p>Suddenly, she understands why her parents only wanted one child.</p>
<p>She immediately goes to help and care for him, taking him into her arms with a slight struggle. His cries almost offend her. Emma definitely hasn't spent enough time around children to know what to do, but she thinks she should get him something to eat.</p>
<p>It's much nicer with the room clean and the trash taken out. She can actually make out what is where and the smell isn't overwhelmingly rank.</p>
<p>She'd discarded all of the garbage to the back of the house in what appeared to be a landfill-type pile that he'd started.</p>
<p>She hadn't seen Captain Hook then. She's sure he's off sulking and keeping to himself right now instead of dwelling near <em>them</em>.</p>
<p>Emma opens up the curtains to let light into the living room as she feeds Henry and then, when he's finished and burped, she settles him back into his bed of pillows so she can clean the rest of the man of the house's mess.</p>
<p>She throws her hair up into a bun atop of her head using a rubber band she'd found in one of the drawers in the kitchen and hobbles around as she moves piles of garbage and creates a cleaner smelling and looking place of dwelling. She wonders if he's ever actually cleaned as she discovers a pile of clothes on his bedroom floor.</p>
<p>"Looks like I'm doing laundry now, too." Emma mutters, throwing the clothes onto the bed so she can wrap everything up in his probably horribly dirty bed sheets.</p>
<p>She carries everything out into the kitchen and throws out the garbage before she takes a tub from the storage room and fills it with water. She finds some soap and gets to cleaning everyone's clothes outside, by what appears to be a good enough place to hang the wire to set things to dry.</p>
<p>She handles her and Henry's clothes with care and makes sure they smell exceptional before allowing them to dry on their own line, pinned down with some clothespins she discovered in a miscellaneous drawer in the kitchen.</p>
<p>She keeps her eye out for Killian, but doesn't see him anywhere amongst the smattering of trees and shrubbery.</p>
<p>Her gaze goes to the lighthouse at the end of the beach. It's tall and white, appearing a little worn for its years. The waves rolling in against the shore remind her of the night she stood on the side of the ship and was tossed from the upper deck and to the lower one.</p>
<p>Her leg hurts when she thinks of it and she takes a deep breath. All she sees when she closes her eyes is her parents in mourning over the loss of their only child and it makes her want to throw up what's in her stomach.</p>
<p>After she goes back inside, Emma starts to prepare herself a meal of oatmeal and bread, returning to Henry to give him some attention as she makes her food.</p>
<p>He's a good baby, she thinks, because when he's properly taken care of, he doesn't complain. She sings a little to him when she sits down to eat her food with him in her arm and pokes at his nose, laughing a little when he makes a face.</p>
<p>"You're too cute, Henry."</p>
<p>She just barely reaches for her spoon when the front door squeaks on its way open.</p>
<p>Killian stares at her first, his mouth open as if he was about to reprimand her for something, and then he looks around the room.</p>
<p>"Did you clean?" he asks, narrowing his eyes at her.</p>
<p>"You were living in filth. Of course I cleaned." Emma scoffs.</p>
<p>He just looks confused and bewildered as he searches over the room.</p>
<p>"The clothes and your bed sheets should be dried soon and I'll have those folded up and replaced as soon as I can." Emma takes a bite of her oatmeal. "Oh, and you had mice living in that storage room, by the way. I got rid of them. Or… tried to. I think you need to patch up the wall in there."</p>
<p>His eyes widen at that and she smiles smugly, looking down at the bowl in front of her again. "You shouldn't... you didn't have to do all of that."</p>
<p>Emma hums. "I'd thought you would have been more appreciative that I'm doing housework. You know, being a woman and all, I have no other good use." He stares at her with a clenched jaw and steps inside, allowing the door to clatter shut. "You're welcome, by the way."</p>
<p>He scowls a little and wipes his feet on the mat she'd discovered in the bedroom under a pile of other misplaced items. He walks over to the kitchen appliances and sets to making something.</p>
<p>Emma ignores the feeling of under-appreciation and attends to her own meal and Henry, whose attention rests on his own toes.</p>
<p>"How do you get warm water for baths?" she asks. "I should give Henry one."</p>
<p>He doesn't answer her. He opens and closes drawers like a man plagued by fury.</p>
<p>Emma sighs. "Plates are by the stove. Silverware in the drawer by the sink."</p>
<p>He stills and she hears the two open one after another.</p>
<p>Killian takes a seat at the table across from her a short while later and she watches him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for her answer.</p>
<p>He's made himself a sandwich that he eats as if she isn't here with him. He doesn't have any regard for manners or her, it turns out, and he makes little noises that infuriate her between hard swallows of breath through his nose.</p>
<p>"Boil it over the fire," he tells her gruffly. She's looking at Henry, biting on her lip so hard she thinks she could draw blood, and keeps her gaze down. "Shouldn't be using that leg, though."</p>
<p>Emma looks up at him. "I do what I want."</p>
<p>He sighs, pushing the last bit of sandwich into his mouth. "Your funeral."</p>
<p>Killian stands up and disregards his utensils into the sink, thankfully, before he storms back outside, the door slamming shut roughly.</p>
<p>"Your funeral," Emma mocks, sticking her tongue out toward the door childishly.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>Killian sucks in a deep breath of the ocean air as he walks back toward the lighthouse.</p>
<p>His fingers twitch by his side and he reaches up to drag his hair out of his face. It's getting too bloody long, but he doesn't feel like cutting it.</p>
<p>He opens the door to his lighthouse and studies the pile of wood he has set up on the floor. He has decided to build Henry a bed, because it doesn't feel right forcing him to sleep in a cradle of pillows.</p>
<p>Even though Henry's cries can be a bother, he'd rather be able to look back at this time and say he did the proper thing.</p>
<p>This <em>was</em> the proper thing to do, right?</p>
<p>With a heavy sigh, Killian sits down in the chair in front of the lumber. He switches on the record player and the slow, quiet tones of the melancholy guitar begin to echo around the small circular base of the lighthouse.</p>
<p>He knows the song by heart, but he doesn't sing, he just listens as he works the wood and finishes shaping the cradle for the little one.</p>
<p>Memories of a time years ago flashback in his mind and he closes his eyes sorrowfully while he leans back.</p>
<p>There are letters ingrained in the wood from where he'd put his chisel years ago, the initials of a child he'd never get to meet.</p>
<p>Sometimes the memories come and he drowns them out in alcohol, but when he considers the present- how he has a woman and a child in his home now, and how that woman cleaned his home from top to bottom without him asking- he figures he should stay as far away from the bottle as he can.</p>
<p>Killian scrubs his hand over his face and averts his gaze to the photograph sitting on the edge of his desk- of he and Liam years ago. They're both grinning, but Liam has it worse, his arm wrapped around Killian's shoulders, and Killian has his uniform on. The two of them stand in front of the lighthouse while a boat sits tied off to the dock.</p>
<p>Killian feels a pang of regret settle in his belly and he closes his eyes as he turns away from his desk and instead toward the door.</p>
<p>"Apologize, you git." Killian mutters under his breath. He sighs heavily and hesitates for a few moments before he steps forward.</p>
<p>As soon as he stands outside in the cold, with the sound of the ocean roaring against one side of him, he hears Emma's screams and hums a laugh.</p>
<p>"I told you, didn't I?" he shakes his head, but rushes forward regardless.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Four</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She curses him under her breath a half dozen times before she starts yelling obscenities in the middle of the living room.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He was right and she's not incredibly surprised by it, but she is still stubbornly frustrated regardless.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She stumbles to the couch and clutches at her leg.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>The crack had been loud and out of nowhere. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She'd been in the middle of getting back from the laundry line, having finished folding and putting everything back, intending on finding a new home for the clothes pins. And then it happened, sending her to the floor in an instant.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's a little surprised the kid hasn't caught on to her distress. Henry is currently lying in his bundle of pillows dressed in a cloth diaper fashioned from one of Killian's shirts.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma whines. She's fairly certain she's re-fractured the break and now he's going to come back and have to reset it. Damn him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The thing about her leg being broken is that it really, really shouldn't be. The old fashioned ship was an insane choice for a family cruise to begin with, and Emma getting flung like she was from her spot on the upper deck was an act of insanity, if not impossible.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She grits her teeth and struggles to lie down, biting her lip and cursing more. A part of her hopes he comes back because of the noise, but the other part of her wants him to never come back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The door opens up, squealing on its way. It's a dramatic buildup, Killian walking into the room, and once he reaches her, he tilts his head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's standing there, all dashing and stupid, and she thinks he's savoring this moment.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Shut up," she growls.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smirks. "Do you need my help?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma scowls, but then the pain makes her angry again. "Screw you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He chuckles darkly. His eyes are alight with amusement. "I don't think now would be the time for that, love."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rolls her eyes so hard she thinks they'll fall out of her head. "How charming. Just do it, you ass."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He slides her up the couch a little so she doesn't hit Henry, and just like last time, he doesn't warn her, and she screams. Emma growls at him when he backs off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stares at her for a second. "Better not get up for a while if you want it to heal properly, yeah?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"And just how am I going to take care of Henry if I can't feed him or change him?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looks over at the lump by her feet and sighs. "Teamwork. I'll deliver your materials when he requires them and you'll do the work."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma rolls her eyes. "Fine. Whatever." Killian takes a step back. "What time is it?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Late."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He turns around and she watches him as he leaves the living room to go into the kitchen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She scoffs, closing her eyes and draping her arm over her forehead as she lays back, settling into the cushions of the raggedy sofa. Henry fusses at her feet a moment later and she groans.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Henry," she sighs. "Just for five minutes, can you not need something?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It isn't fair that she's being tasked to take care of a kid that doesn't even belong to her. It isn't fair that she broke her leg and has had to get it reset twice.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It isn't fair that she's stranded on an island with this man who seems to believe that women are only good for cooking and cleaning.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She just wants to go home, to wrap herself up in a blanket and sit between her parents on their couch, watching some old movies while they discuss mundane crap. She <em>misses</em> talking about mundane crap. Who would've known?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma winces as she sits up, her thoughts of home weighing heavily on her chest, settling into the pit of her stomach anxiously. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She misses home and she misses her family and friends. She misses Neal, of all people, and he isn't even someone she likes that much right now.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Somehow she manages to adjust so that Henry is cradled against her and she sighs. "Hey! Captain Hook! Get back here."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boots clatter loudly against the floors and she hears him moving things in the kitchen. "Where the bloody hell did you put the bottles?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma rolls her eyes. "Top shelf next to the sink."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hears him yanking the door open and then he puts together the bottle noisily. The man has a nasty habit of being over-the-top loud and it annoys her so much, especially with a crying baby roaring in her ear.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Hurry up, damn it!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I hear him!" the man yells, clearly just as perturbed as she is. "I bloody well hear him! Bloody woman!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sighs as she rocks Henry a bit to get him to calm down. He doesn't.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>By the time the idiot comes back into the room, she has no patience for anything and yanks the bottle from him hastily. He goes storming off immediately and she hears the front door squeaking open and slamming shut, making her roll her eyes again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Yeah, thanks for the help, you jerk."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma turns her attention to Henry and successfully gets him to eat and fall back asleep within a matter of twenty minutes. She leaves the bottle on the floor and curls up on the couch as much as she can, closing her eyes and listening to the world move around her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s raining.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hears the steady threshing of the rain against the roof and a dribbling sound from <em>somewhere</em> she's sure she'll discover in the morning. The night is dark and when it starts to thunder, she's instantly reminded again of the night she was tossed from the ship.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's chilly in the house so she tugs at her blanket to trap the body heat closer. Maybe she would feel better if she and Killian weren't so horrifically opposed to one another. Maybe she could let herself rest and get comfortable.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But instead, she dwells on the fact that he is a man with his own set of ideas and plans, plans that she interrupted when she washed up on his island.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It isn't her fault that the ocean brought her to him. It isn't her fault that the ocean brought them both this child to take care of.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She wonders briefly what she'll do with him when she gets back to Maine. If she gets rid of him, he'll get sent into the system and-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sighs, shaking her head. She'll find him a home with someone. Maybe her parents would want him. They couldn't have children. This could be a second opportunity for them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With a little hope blossoming in her chest, Emma turns her thoughts to Neal, to the complete asshole that he is, and tries to justify her answer to him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He says he's sorry for what he'd done when she was younger. It had been a mess. She'd gone to jail for him. She can't trust anyone, especially Neal. But it's not like she can push him away. He's <em>trying</em> and that's something at least.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A short while later, the front door opens and shutters closed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hears Killian huffing and wiping his feet on the rug, then she thinks he takes his boots off, because he comes walking into the living room quietly. He's dripping wet when he squats down in front of the sofa, her eyes wide at the sight of him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Beside him, he has a wooden <em>something</em>- what she isn't sure.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I wanted to apologize," he tells her softly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She can tell he's telling her the truth; his eyes are steady and unmoving and his words don't tremble in the way they might if he were lying. He's cold, clearly, and soaked, which explains the small chatter in his teeth and the wavering in his tone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He takes a deep breath before he continues, "I've treated you poorly since you've woken and it isn't at all how you should be treated."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma blinks at him. She doesn't know what to say, if she's supposed to say anything at all. He's actually being… <em>sweet</em> and it confuses the hell out of her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Thank you for cleaning this place. I, um, I've let it fall to pieces a bit and I appreciate what you've done to bring it back to livable standards."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her heart rate quickens at his words and an unfamiliar feeling of gratitude befalls her. She is appreciated. She is wanted. Her actions have not gone unnoticed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You're welcome," she manages quietly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiles softly. "Perhaps we should agree to be civil, yeah? Four weeks is quite a bit of time if we're going to treat each other like we have been."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma laughs breathily, drawing his smile up a little.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"And if I'm anything, I'm a gentleman, so I want you and Henry to take my bedroom. I've made Henry a cradle so he doesn't have to be buried in pillows any longer. I'll sleep on the couch."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma opens her mouth. "What? No, it's fine. I'm-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sets his hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Emma, I've treated you poorly and I'm trying to make it right. Allow me this, at the very least. You'll only be here four weeks and I've got the rest of my life to live in that bed."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma frowns a little at that, but accepts with hesitancy, sitting up and taking his arm when he offers it to her. They move slowly to the bedroom and he helps her into the bed, covering her with blankets. He sets a fire in the fireplace and then brings the wooden something into the room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's a cradle, she realizes, and it makes her heart melt.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian stares at the cradle for a moment and she can tell he's thinking deeply about something, but he shakes it off and goes to get the child.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She knows it's not his specialty, carrying and caring for Henry, she knows because he'd been practically yelling at the little boy when she'd first discovered him. So to see him carrying Henry makes her heart warm because she <em>knows</em> he doesn't want this.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maybe it's his fear of dropping him; a purely male instinct. Maybe it's because he has a hook for a hand. Maybe it's something else entirely, but to see him trying is something she thinks is a rare sight and she takes it in for all it's worth.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma helps him settle Henry down on the bed with his bundle of blankets and pillows, holding him in her arms while Killian lowers the little boy into the new cradle.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's pleasantly asleep; blissfully unaware of anything that's transpired.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Sleep well, Emma," he says. "I'll be in to help when he stirs."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Thank you," she says, voice laced with more than just a thank you for helping with Henry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stares at her for a moment, then nods once, lips pressing into a line.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He leaves her room with a softened pace, shoulders set in a less angry way, and she releases a sigh, closing her eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's as if her silent prayers were answered. The man takes a walk in the rain and comes back a renewed person.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's thankful for whatever it is that got into him, though, and presses her nose against his pillow, breathing in the scent of sea and a little bit of cinnamon, something she supposes must be ingrained in the sheets, because it's <em>his</em> smell and she just washed these today.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smells okay, she guesses.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian feels something heavy in his chest. Change.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As he walks through his living room, Killian goes to the bookshelf in the wall and his fingers dance over the leather binding of his favorites. He considers reading because he knows he won't be able to sleep through the night on the sofa, but he decides against the novels.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His attention goes to the television against the wall and he grimaces, taking his fingers through his hair.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In that moment, he recalls Emma telling him about the shortages of food and he finds himself just curious enough to go investigate. Not to his surprise, he discovers the pantry re-organized, tidied, and cleaned.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"There's not enough," he murmurs to himself on a grimace. "Bloody hell, there's not going to be enough."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There's a small stash in the lighthouse, but considering he spends a good deal of time picking those food items off when he hides out in the lighthouse, he figures there's not half as much as there was at the start.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It is in this moment, as he's standing in the pantry studying the shelves of canned food, that Killian resolves to go hungry in order to keep Emma and Henry alive.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Five</p>
<p>Killian comes into the room three times in the night when Henry cries.</p>
<p>His exhaustion is mirrored in Emma's own miserable appearance, sagging eyes and lips pressed together tightly without any need for communication.</p>
<p>He sits in the chair under the window next to the fireplace and she tries not to notice the way his hair sticks up in every direction as he threads a hand through it with his gaze lazy on the flickering fire.</p>
<p>Henry needs to be changed after his third feeding and Emma winces as she lays him down on her legs to do the work.</p>
<p>Emma just fastens the pin on the side with practiced ease and she pulls his little outfit on as snugly as it will fit before taking the boy into her arms and allowing him to play with her finger as she waits for him to drift off.</p>
<p>She nearly falls asleep herself, sitting up in the bed, but Henry doesn't feel like sleeping and she can't just put him down like this, so she drops her shoulders low.</p>
<p>"Can you just go to sleep?" She's begging and Henry just blinks his big brown eyes at her. She sighs.</p>
<p>"Do you know any songs?" Killian asks, voice thick with sleep.</p>
<p>Emma shakes her head, looking over at him. "You don't have to stay here, you know. You can go back to sleep. He's just going to stay up until he's ready."</p>
<p>He shakes his head and stands, pulling the chair to the edge of the bed. He plunks back down and takes a breath.</p>
<p>"I haven't sung in a long while," he tells her, clearing his throat a little. He braces himself with another breath. "So pardon my pitch."</p>
<p>Emma tilts her head to the side in mild curiosity, a swelling of surprise in her belly. "Believe me, I have no judgment. I can't sing for my life."</p>
<p>He smiles the smallest bit, almost shyly, and Emma looks down at Henry before Killian starts in, low and deep.</p>
<p>His voice is beautiful and stunning to say the least. She hasn't heard anything like it, and the song he's singing is equally as such. It's a song about a man calling for his lost love at sea. She thinks it's probably a song that he used to hear at some point in his past.</p>
<p>He sings with passion and she keeps her gaze fixed on Henry's tiny face while he drifts off peacefully. He's asleep before the song is finished, but Killian keeps singing anyway.</p>
<p>They sit in silence for a few moments once he finishes singing.</p>
<p>Turning to him, Emma intentionally meets his eyes. "That was beautiful."</p>
<p>Killian smiles slightly. "My brother Liam used to sing it to me when I was afraid of the storms."</p>
<p>She smiles at that, finding herself genuinely interested in his past. Interested in the fact that he used to be afraid of thunderstorms. Interested in who he used to be, and of what happened to lead him here.</p>
<p>She finds herself suddenly wide awake, wanting to sit up for the rest of the night discussing themselves.</p>
<p>But at the same time, she knows it wouldn't be right. They're still just acquaintances and when she leaves him, she'll never see him again, so it isn't as if there needs to be a <em>relationship</em> here.</p>
<p>Emma hands Henry off to Killian so he can settle the boy into his crib. He stays sitting there in silence for a few moments with her, so she thinks he must want to talk.</p>
<p>She's not good at this, but she manages to find something to say.</p>
<p>"Did you lose him?"</p>
<p>He stares at her and then looks down at his lap, lip going between his teeth. He struggles for a second or two. "Aye."</p>
<p>Emma closes her eyes. "I'm so sorry."</p>
<p>He scoffs, sitting up straight and running his hand over his head. "Don't apologize, love. No one ever sticks around, do they? Death is inevitable. I made my peace with that a long time ago."</p>
<p>He shoves himself up onto his feet and returns the chair to its spot. She watches him, the way his features have darkened with the obvious pent-up anger over this topic.</p>
<p>"Do you want to talk about it?"</p>
<p>He pauses where he's standing by the door and glances over his shoulder. "Not entirely."</p>
<p>"Okay."</p>
<p>He leaves the room after a second at the door and she sees his hand clench up into a fist before falling to his side on his way out.</p>
<p>She wonders if she'll ever figure him out.</p>
<p>There are so many layers, she's beginning to see now, and if she doesn't figure out what he's about now, she probably never will. It's odd that she wants to, because she's had a life of messy relationships and idiots and people who claimed they wanted her but never did.</p>
<p><em>Wanting</em> to learn about someone else is unsettling. So maybe she shouldn't want that.</p>
<p>Maybe she shouldn't wonder about what Killian Jones' history looks like, about who he lost and who he's hiding from. Maybe she shouldn't want to help him see that living alone on this island is doing more harm than good.</p>
<p>It's evident already that he doesn't care much for himself. She can't say much for his grooming standards, but based on the amount of cleaning she'd done, it's obvious that a part of Killian is careless and hopeless, as if he doesn't want his life to be long-lived.</p>
<p>She can't think of anything sadder, really. Living on this island, in this house, for another fifty years- into his old age? That sounds like it would kill him faster than anything.</p>
<p>People aren't meant to live alone. If there's something she's learned in the past few years of living with David and Mary Margaret, it's that.</p>
<p>It's probably a matter of time before it all comes crumbling down for him and she hopes with bated breath that it isn't while she's still here with him.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>In the morning, Emma is greeted by the sound of Henry's hungry cry and a groan from the other side of the wall.</p>
<p>After a few moments, Killian enters the room and hands the baby to her. He looks exhausted, as if his sleep had been restless. Hers had been, too.</p>
<p>Henry's cries soften as soon as she holds him, but he still needs comfort, and she hums a little to him, muttering the words under her breath as she strokes over his hair and cheeks.</p>
<p>She bites her lip when Killian comes back into the room with the bottle in his hand.</p>
<p>Emma takes it from him and starts to feed Henry while Killian sits at the foot of the bed. He runs a hand over his face and sighs. "How does your leg feel?"</p>
<p>She shrugs. "A little better, I guess."</p>
<p>He smiles a tiny bit and nods. "Good. I'll get you some ice." Killian pauses and, as if he remembers something important, he tells her, "Snowed this morning."</p>
<p>Emma's eyes widen. "<em>What</em>? Are you serious?"</p>
<p>Killian chuckles and nods. She looks toward the window and finds that it's fogged over in a white sheen and she laughs.</p>
<p>"Can I go outside and see it?"</p>
<p>He shrugs. "Suppose so."</p>
<p>Emma smiles at him excitedly. He seems curious, with the way his eyes shine back at her, and how tentatively stretched his smile is.</p>
<p>She's oddly <em>really</em> happy. The idea of snow brings back memories of real life, where she belongs, and they sit warm in her chest. Clearly, Killian can sense that, though he stares at her like she's being silly.</p>
<p>"Sorry. I just…" Emma shakes her head. "It's just that the first snow of the year, my mom has this tradition that we do."</p>
<p>She pauses, a smile filling her face from ear to ear. She can practically hear her mother's bright voice in her ears.</p>
<p>"She says that the first coat of snow is the most magical and we usually bottle some up and leave it in our freezer until Christmas Eve. Then we'd sprinkle it in our stockings because she says the magic in the snow would bring even more happiness than Santa could ever bring."</p>
<p>He smiles at her explanation, a genuine one, his teeth showing and sparkling in the early morning light.</p>
<p>Her own smile fades as she looks down at Henry, realizing that her parents have no idea where she is and no clue of how to find her. She hasn't even tried to contact them.</p>
<p>Is there even a way to do that?</p>
<p>They might think she's dead and that <em>definitely</em> makes her heart ache, because she knows that they love her more than she thinks is even possible and losing her would absolutely drive them to the brink of insanity.</p>
<p>"Were you with your parents when you fell from the ship?" Killian asks, suddenly pulling her back to reality.</p>
<p>"Yeah," she smiles a little, shaking her head. "We were on the way back home from England. My parents thought it would be fun to take a ship across the Atlantic instead of flying." Emma sighs, laughing a little with bitterness. "It was our Six Year Gotcha Day vacation."</p>
<p>"Gotcha Day?"</p>
<p>Emma lifts her eyebrows. "Yeah. It's silly… I was adopted. We were celebrating my adoption day."</p>
<p>Killian nods in understanding. "Ah."</p>
<p>Henry finishes eating and she tucks the bottle down beside her while she lifts him to burp him, the cloth she'd used all night draped across her shoulder while she gently pats his back.</p>
<p>Killian has an unreadable look on his face, which isn't much of a surprise.</p>
<p>"They celebrate everything," she tells him. "They would celebrate a good day at school if they had the time." A slightly bigger smile fills his lips at the idea. Emma frowns again, longing to see her parents at the forefront of her mind. "Do you have, like, a radio or something? So that we can get word to them that I'm okay?"</p>
<p>He looks hesitant for a moment, squinting one eye in a painful sort of way. "I- I may've smashed it in a drunken stupor."</p>
<p>She opens her mouth and nods slowly. He cringes, pressing a hand to his forehead.</p>
<p>"In about four weeks the supplies will come. Then you'll be free to leave. He should have all of the necessary equipment back on the mainland."</p>
<p>Emma furrows her brow. "How far away are you from <em>the mainland</em>?"</p>
<p>He shakes his head. "About forty-five miles."</p>
<p>She hums, tilting her head curiously. "Why don't you have a boat, then?"</p>
<p>His gaze turns dark and he shifts his eyes away from her, looking down at his lap. She feels a stirring of past emotions bubbling forward, as if it's all too painful for him, and he pushes off of the bed, stalking toward the door before spinning around.</p>
<p>"I don't operate sea craft any longer." It's all he says, but she sees the pain in his eyes and it makes her wonder yet again what exactly happened to him.</p>
<p>Again, she finds herself watching him walk away from her knowing just a little bit more and a whole lot less about him than when their conversation first began.</p>
<p>Emma bites her lip and glances down at Henry as she sets him down in her arms. "Well, Henry, what do you think? What do we do today?"</p>
<p>Henry gurgles and makes adorable noises, a toothless grin filling his face for a moment. She laughs.</p>
<p>"You'd better be glad you're cute, otherwise I don't think I would like being woken up so much at night." She laughs again when he makes a vocalization. "Oh, really?"</p>
<p>Emma pokes his nose and he closes his eyes. His smile widens.</p>
<p>She wonders where he comes from and who his parents are, wonders if they know he's missing, and if they're looking for him.</p>
<p>She sighs as she cradles him tighter to her chest. He certainly would be missed if he was hers.</p>
<p>"Emma, I've got to go check on the lighthouse," Killian comes back into the room. She looks at him with wide eyes. "So if you want to try and move around, I'll come back in about an hour or so and help you."</p>
<p>Emma nods. "Okay."</p>
<p>He walks closer to her, putting a bowl of something down on the nightstand.</p>
<p>"Do you think he'll need another bottle?"</p>
<p>She shakes her head. "No, but if you could grab another one of those diaper cloths, that would be good."</p>
<p>Killian nods and then whisks himself out of the room. Emma looks over at what he's left for her and smiles a tiny bit because he's left her a bowl of oatmeal.</p>
<p>Emma smiles down at Henry. "He might think he's tough, but I think he's a real softie inside, Henry. There's no need to be scared of Killian."</p>
<p>A half second later, the man waltzes back into the room with one of the diaper cloths and a roll of bandages. He holds them out purposefully.</p>
<p>"For your forehead, if you'd like to replace the bandages."</p>
<p>Emma softens. "Oh. Um, yeah. Thank you."</p>
<p>He nods and then leans in close to her, focusing intently on the gash on her forehead. She had only had a quick look at the residue during her cleaning, the blood seeping through the bandage and coloring it a light shade of brown.</p>
<p>She bites her lip as he pulls the tape off. "So you were in the Navy. Were you a doctor?"</p>
<p>He scoffs. "Not by a long shot." He grabs the roll of medical tape and uses his teeth to tear away a square. It's a practiced motion, as if he's done it a lot. "But with time, you learn how to pull off simple fixes."</p>
<p>Emma hums. He applies more tape to her forehead. His fingers brush against her eyebrow, as if he's examining her, and she finds his eyes in an instant that sucks the breath straight from her lungs.</p>
<p>"There we are." Killian says, voice low and gentle.</p>
<p>He doesn't move away from her. She can feel his breath, warm against her cheek, and the longer she stares into his eyes, the more she wants to understand him.</p>
<p>The brush of his fingertips slows to a gentle caress that shouldn't feel as meaningful as it does.</p>
<p>She sees the moment he recognizes the intimacy of the moment, of sensing just how close they are. It hits her all at once, too, and she allows herself to release a soft, shaking breath as soon as he stands upright.</p>
<p>His eyes fall away from her and he straightens his shoulders. "I'd better get going."</p>
<p>She rolls her eyes as he backs away from her. He turns the caretaker switch off and on again so easily that it's a wonder she's still breathing.</p>
<p>"Thanks."</p>
<p>She doesn't say it, but she means to say thank you for <em>everything</em>. For singing Henry to sleep, for saving them when he could've let the water drown them, and for caring when he obviously isn't built for it.</p>
<p>He nods. "Not a problem, Emma."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Six</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>By the end of her fourth day with Killian Jones, Emma has learned only a small percentage of the mystery that he is.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She knows that he hates coffee, but drinks it because if he doesn't, he'll fall asleep while he's working on the lighthouse. This is mostly because of Henry and they both know it. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He offers her some coffee and she declines it, because she has nothing better to do but sleep and tend to Henry while she's bedridden with her stupid leg.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He only really comes to see her when Henry cries, which is often enough that she sees him every few hours, but it's not enough for her to get any information out of him.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She still really wonders about his life and his choices. Why he would decide that living here is a mystery to her. He probably could have won any woman's affections with just a flash of his smirk and a wink. He oozes charm. He can sing. He has pretty fantastic hair. He's intelligent and thoughtful.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She kind of likes him, but she never admits that to herself, though she finds herself dwelling on just about everything she knows about him in all of her spare time- which is <em>all</em> the time.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian walks with her for a little while outside the afternoon of her fifth day on Isolation Island.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's freezing, and he gave her one of his sweaters, a coat, and a pair of boots that are way too big for her feet, so she's using extra caution as they move around outside in the dusting of snow that remains on the island.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The snow is catching in his hair because he's also lent her his bright red hat and she laughs teasingly, because his ears are bright pink and his cheeks are even pinker when he tells her they should go back inside.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They shake off the snowflakes and she shivers, teeth chattering as they stand in the doorway on the mat together.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The door clatters closed and she turns to face him, half of her face hidden underneath the lip of the coat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He lets out a cold breath and clasps his hands together, hunching his shoulders with a chuckle slipping from his lips. "That's cold."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma laughs at his remark and nods in agreement as she unsnaps the buttons of the coat. She steps out of one of the boots with the leg she can manage and then, with the intention of not needing his help, Emma ends up collapsing straight into him, her hands clamoring for grip on his shoulders while her leg threatens to snap forward.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For a moment, she clings to him, unable to think straight. He is so firm and strong under her hands and her eyes find his to be dilated and wide, their breaths both surprisingly heavy. His hand is on her elbow and he gives her a gentle squeeze.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You all right?" he asks gently.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods dumbly and slips back from him, keeping her hands on him for balance as she removes the other boot.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Sorry," she apologizes quietly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shakes his head. "'s fine."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma stares up at him for a moment longer, seemingly unable to break apart from his gaze.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She swallows and rips herself off and away from him, closing her eyes for a moment as she blushes a little. Her nose is freezing and the rest of her feels just as cold as she strips off the layers and carries them to the fireplace in the living room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry is still where they left him, lying in his little bed beside the couch. She goes to him after Killian takes her things to set them out to dry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She avoids his eyes. He might be attractive and he might be nice to her on his good days, but he is still a man who doesn't talk about his past and lives alone on an island. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He could have a criminal history or might like taking shipwrecked people in just to eat them later on. She doesn't know. A person could go stir crazy living alone for however long he's been doing it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sits on the sofa and holds Henry in her arms, his little lips parting as he coos at her. He is a sweet baby, she has to admit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Would you care for a hot chocolate?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She glances up and nods, receiving one in return before he walks out of the room. "Do you have whipped cream?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's quiet for a second. "I think so. Would you like some?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"If it's no trouble. It's kind of… my family's <em>thing</em>. We drink hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon. Even when it's not winter and freezing."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She smiles fondly, allowing Henry to take her finger into his warm and sticky grasp.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She listens to Killian as he prepares the beverages, clanking things around with a calmness she's gotten used to since they've agreed to be civil. She likes this version of him; the one that isn't fighting her because he's uptight over the whole being stuck together situation.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He comes back into the room with a mug in his hand that he promptly gives to her. She smiles at him thankfully, biting her lip a little as she looks down and realizes that he's not only put whipped cream on top, but also cinnamon.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's warming up to her. This much she can tell as she catches a look of his smirk before he walks back out of the room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She has a sip and almost, <em>almost</em> moans, but keeps the reaction quiet, closing her eyes and humming softly instead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian returns with his own mug of cocoa and settles down on the couch beside her, almost too close for comfort.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hums at the taste and nods at her. "It is quite good."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma smiles. "Did you put whipped cream and cinnamon on yours?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods again. "That I did. I can see why it's your family's… <em>thing</em>."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma laughs and she notices his eyes smiling as he has another sip. She ducks her head as she drinks at the hot beverage.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There is a sense of camaraderie between the two of them. They're <em>both</em> stuck here with nothing but each other and this tiny child she has nestled in her arm.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma stares down at Henry, finding him fussy, and she looks up at Killian in turn. "You know, I don't think babies are supposed to drink cow's milk straight up."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian raises an eyebrow. "Well, what should we be feeding him then?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma looks down at the little boy. She sighs heavily. "I don't know."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>More silence follows. Emma finds herself thinking about the chance that anyone might come find this little island, wondering if Henry's parents are out there looking for him, wondering if hers are doing the same.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Uneasily, she looks up at Killian. "Is the island off the map? Would people be able to find us if we signaled or something?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian shakes his head. "No. I don't think so. Not in my experience at least."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His words bring back a familiar question to her mind: just how long has Killian been on this island?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"How long have you been here?" Emma asks him after a few sips of hot chocolate in silence. She turns to look at him and he licks his upper lip.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Going on four years, I think." He sinks back against the couch and Emma's eyes widen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Really? Do you ever get lonely or bored?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He chuckles. "I <em>am</em> human, Emma."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She bites her lip, hesitating before she dares ask the question that's been at the tip of her tongue for a few days now. "Then why do you do it? Why do you stay here all by yourself?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian doesn't look disturbed by her question, instead appearing to be honestly flattered that she would be inquiring about his social life.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shakes his head. "A loaded question, that is."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tilts his head to the side and downs another sip. He takes a breath and sets the mug down on the side table.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He holds his left arm up and examines his hook as if he hasn't ever seen it before. Then, he lowers his arm and sighs.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"When I was... fifteen, my brother bought this lighthouse. He said it would be our project." Killian smiles wryly at the memory as he stares off and away from Emma. "He'd gone and joined the navy a few years before and we'd been apart for… a remarkably long time, considering."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She wants to ask questions, but she supposes she's lucky he's even talking about his apparently dark past at all.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shakes his head. "Anyway, we worked on it. I would help him with supply hauls. We tinkered a lot, mostly. He decided to build the house and we did it all over the course of a year or so- got it up and running.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"We stayed here that summer when I was sixteen. It was a lot less involved back then. We didn't have the telly to keep us partly interested when it decided to latch onto a signal." Killian tosses a hand in the direction of the box across the room and shakes his head. "We mostly read books and he taught me how to craft things. We made those bookshelves, actually."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma turns to look at the wall and a small smile fills her lips. "They're beautiful."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Aye." Killian agrees. He stares at them for a few moments, as if thinking about something. "I joined the navy as soon as I could. Liam returned to it too." He looks at her. "There was a fluke explosion on a ship we were taking out for a routine maintenance run." Killian's gaze turns dark and he stares down at his mug. "I made it out alive, but Liam didn't."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's heart sinks and she shakes her head. "Oh. I'm so sorry-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Nothing to be sorry for." Killian pushes up from his position on the couch and forces a smile that falls as soon as it rises. "I, um, I'll just go see to the lighthouse, then."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma drops her gaze and nods. "Okay."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's gone by the time she looks up again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian takes his fingers through his impossibly long hair as he walks out into the cold day. He breathes out a puff of white just to see it and kicks his boot against the rocks on the shoreline.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hasn't thought about that day on the <em>Jewel</em> for a long time. He'd kept it locked away, never to be seen or spoken of again, and yet here he is, telling some woman he found on the shore of this bloody island his life's darkest secrets.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Something whispers in the back of his mind that she isn't just <em>some woman</em>, reminds him of the connection he's felt growing between them, teases him with the idea that maybe she could drag him out of his agony.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian scoffs, the warm air from his lungs colliding with the cold in another puff of white. He feels weakened, his guard falling by the day, and he knows it's what Liam would've wanted, but it's hard letting go.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"We should probably talk about how there's not a ton of food in the pantry," Emma says as soon as Killian returns from the outside. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's carrying an armful of wood for the fire and seems caught off guard by her statement.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's standing in the kitchen, nibbling on her lip with arms folded across her chest. She was going to make something to eat, but realized as she rifled through his freezer box that there wasn't a lot to work with.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian releases a heavy sigh, as if he'd expected this conversation. "Just a moment."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He goes into the other room and she hears him set the wood down before he steps back into the kitchen with his pink cheeks and earlobes. He pulls the hat from his head and unzips his jacket.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian stares at her thoughtfully. "Eat whatever you need to feel full. I'll take less of a portion or none at all. I'll survive."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma gives him a weary look. Her shoulders sag and she shakes her head. "No, I don't think that's a great idea-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"It's what I want," Killian insists. He glances over his shoulder at the living room and then back at her. "You and Henry weren't supposed to find me, but you did, so I figure the least I owe you is enough food to survive until you can go home again."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's heart pounds just a little bit faster when he steps toward her with pure honesty in his gaze. He's trying. This is the kindest she has ever seen him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She scans his face and swallows thickly. "I don't think-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I'll eat some," he promises. "Just… don't worry about it, Emma."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She knows she's pushing harder than she's ever pushed before. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s told her about his brother and he's given her his bed, and now he's giving her his food. It should be enough to satisfy her enough to shut up and wait out the month, but something niggles at the back of her brain, begging her to find out more.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma takes a soft breath. "Okay."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods once. He tosses a look over his shoulder again. "I was going to start a fire. It's getting cold in here again."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Sounds good," Emma smiles slightly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian bobs his head and turns back around, leaving her to contemplate everything and anything she's ever learned about cooking.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Seven</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I… uh… might be in need of a haircut.” Killian says with the tiniest blush blooming in his cheeks. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Emma holds onto his arm as they make their way slowly toward the bathroom. She peeks up at the man, studying the lengthy strands of hair that fall past and over his ears. He has bangs that he always has to sweep away because he can’t see otherwise, too. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I’m not very good at it. Usually hold out too long, too. It’s why it’s... like this.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She hums in agreement, stopping as they stand in the bathroom. She has another look at the curls at the base of his neck under the light from the bulb in the ceiling.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Have any scissors? I'm not a professional, but I can do my best."</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In a flash, he digs through a drawer in the cabinet nearby and pulls a pair out with a triumphant smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She chuckles. “Okay.” Emma reaches up to tug at his hair playfully, only making him blush all the more. It’s adorable, that a man who had once been so cold could be so adolescent at the same time. “I'll cut those long, luscious Fabio locks for you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian offers her a smile in thanks, then steps out of the tiny space so she can use the toilet. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A few minutes later, when she hobbles out into the kitchen again, she finds him sitting at the kitchen table with the scissors in front of him. He's not paying any attention to her, instead seeming more interested in the cracked crown molding on the wall in front of him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's never cut anyone's hair before, but she supposes it can't be terribly difficult. She's seen her mother cut her father's hair plenty of times. Albeit, she had a razor and his unfailing love and devotion were anything to go wrong.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma takes the scissors from the table and pulls her lip into her mouth. She weighs the cool object in her palm and nervous butterflies cause her to stall.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Looking at him from behind, he seems so much younger than he is. His hair could probably be pulled into a small ponytail if he wanted to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Do you usually do this yourself?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Aye."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Of course he does. There's no one else here.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sucks in a deep breath as she makes her decision. She grips the scissors firmly and lifts her eyebrows at Killian, who now stares at her thoughtfully. "How short do you want it?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shrugs. "Just don't make me bald, love. It's cold and I quite like having a head of hair."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma rolls her eyes. "I think you can trust that I won't shave it all off, Killian."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiles, filling his cheeks, and it makes her grin as she aligns herself with the back of him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's wearing a dark sweater today and jeans, items she thinks she washed a few days ago, and they make him seem somewhat softer than usual. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma combs through his hair with her fingers, trying to get a feel and a vision for what she's going to do, and then she straightens out his head as she starts cutting.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's an oddly intimate thing. He's trusting her to not make a mess of his head and she's so close to him that she can feel how warm he is without having to touch.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His hair is soft and smooth between her fingers and she wonders how on Earth it could ever possibly be this way. He doesn't bathe daily and his diet consists of coffee and soup or something of that equivalent. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sometimes, he skips meals, something that really frustrates her to no end.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She probably spends too long dwelling on the fact that his hair is soft, because he clears his throat and shifts in his chair, causing her to jolt back into reality.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma takes her time. She keeps her eyes focused and her tongue between her teeth as she makes each decision of where his hair needs to be trimmed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>By the time she comes around to get his bangs back to where they should be, she's fairly proud of her work.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His hair is cut in a way she's seen her mother give her father, with the exception of the leeway she's given him to style with on the top and at the front. It’s close enough to his head that it won’t be in the way, but gives some freedom to mess with it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma smiles, feeling accomplished, as she steps back from him. She clasps her hands together. "Okay. All done. Looking handsome."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiles at her, a little pink flush of embarrassment in his ears and cheeks. He stands, runs his hand through his hair, and then nods once.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I might have to keep you around. Cut my hair every few months."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's obviously teasing, and she laughs because seeing him feel comfortable around her makes things just a little bit easier.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma watches him as he goes to look at her work in the nearby bathroom mirror. His eyes are bright and he appears to have lost some of the weight he typically carries around in his shoulders.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I feel like a new man!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She chuckles. "You had a lot of shag going on."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He plays with the moldable hair atop his head and then drops his hand. "Well, I should say thanks are in order, then."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiles at her, all teeth and bright eyes, and her heart squeezes tight within her chest, because <em>God</em> he looks so much better with his hair cut. It's not fair, really, that one man could look this <em>good</em>. And she was the one that did it to him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma straightens out, her eyes wide and head shaking as she tries to stop thinking of what he might look like under those jeans and that damn attractive tight sweater.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Someone had to do it. Otherwise you'd be pulling a Robin Williams in Jumanji, and we can't have that, now, can we?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He chuckles. "I suppose you're right."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma finds herself breathless all of a sudden and she realizes that they're standing awkwardly close to each other. She holds her breath for a second and releases it when Henry starts crying in the other room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She glances over her shoulder at the sudden disturbance and sighs- relieved that at least in the midst of all of the tension there is a constantly needy baby to anchor her down.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I'll prepare the bottle. Can you manage to walk?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nods in the affirmative and starts for the living room where they left the kid. She picks him up as soon as she can and he stares up at her with tears in his sad eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You're okay, Henry," Emma soothes, smoothing over his fingers. "I've got you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian comes to her side a few minutes later and his breath is basically in her ear as he leans in to hand her the bottle. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She forces a smile, tries to ignore the amount of body heat he's burning into her. It's impossible to breathe like this and it is the worst feeling ever. She hasn't had <em>eyes</em> for anyone in a long time and-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>God damn it. She has three weeks left with him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He walks away from her and she releases a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sits on the couch with Henry as she feeds him, steadying herself with the thought of going home and seeing her parents again. It isn't like she would stay here with him anyway.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She has a life in Maine. She has a job. She has family, friends. She has an apartment and bills and responsibilities. She can't stay here and he has an unhealthy desire to. So even the bold half-thought of maybe getting to try a relationship with Killian is <em>stupid</em> because it would never work.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Emma, I'm going to go check on the leak above the bathroom. Shouldn't be long."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He comes into the room and she nods, though she's barely keeping it together, because the man is wearing his coat and a scarf and it's nearly too much for her to handle.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Okay," she chirps, wincing immediately at the unnatural noise she’d made.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He quirks a little curious brow, but then nods and turns around, a smile on his lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sighs and looks down at Henry after the front door clatters shut. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Don't tell anyone I told you this, Henry, but I think I've created a monster." Henry suckles at the milk and kicks his feet in her lap, making her smile. "You're too good, kid."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Once Henry is fed and changed, she rocks him to sleep and tucks him into the cradle.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As she stares protectively after the sleeping boy, she finds initials on the wood, on the back, hidden from sight. They've since been crossed out with a harsh chisel, but she can make out part of the last letter, definitely a 'J'.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma frowns and runs her fingers along the letters. She wants to know who this belonged to more than anything, but maybe it would be best if she didn’t find out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She finds herself lingering by the bookshelf as she listens to Killian hammering something on the other side of the house. She runs her fingers over the bindings of the books, reading titles and smiling to herself as she plucks some off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's a meticulous reader, it appears, because as she goes through his bookshelf, she finds that most of the books have been dog-eared and highlighted, words scribbled in the margins. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian is apparently a lit-freak and she can't help but <em>love</em> it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There's nothing on these bookshelves that seems to come from anywhere in his painful past, however. No clues about who the cradle belonged to. No photographs of Killian as a small boy. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She wonders if he keeps the memories locked up somewhere. Surely he wouldn't strand himself to this place and not keep at least one memento from his younger years.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hums, fascinated, when she finds herself stumbling upon his romance novels. Emma bites on her lip as she opens the pages to find them very clean and probably never read.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She has to laugh, because obviously the person giving him entertainment had taken the time and money into getting it to him and he never touched it, but kept it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maybe one day he would read it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Or, <em>she</em> might.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She gnaws on her lip in the middle of making her decision, thinking that maybe it would put an end to these insane urges she has toward Killian and instead thrust them upon this half-naked cover model's character.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's interrupted before she can take the book with her to the couch and start reading.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The door opens and closes with a loud clatter and she hears him noisily re-adjusting to the warmth of the little home. He comes into the room with everything but his boots on and smiles wide at her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Great news, love. Fixed the roof."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma widens her eyes and smiles in appreciation, hiding the book behind her back. "Thanks. That leak has been getting on my nerves."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tilts his head, stepping closer to her with a curious look on his face, edging on teasing. "What's that you've got there?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma shakes her head, trying to maintain innocence with a cool composure. "Nothing."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She steps back, toward the bookshelf, and he grins, clicking his tongue in his cheek at her, pointing his index finger at her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"That's not... are you reading a <em>romance</em> novel, Emma?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She scoffs, trying to deny him, ending up dancing away from him when he gets too close.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"No! I was just looking at your bookshelf."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hums, narrowing his eyes at her before he makes his move, lunging for her, causing her to yelp as she holds the book above her head. He laughs triumphantly and she squeezes her eyes shut, horror filling the pit of her stomach.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"It's not like that! I didn't even open it."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He plucks the book from her and she watches him examine the cover before raising an eyebrow at her, a hum escaping his throat. Those damn eyebrows have a life of their own, don't they?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I didn't read any of it." Emma tilts her head defiantly and he sways closer to her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His eyes are bright blue, shining and <em>happy</em>, something she hasn't really seen before. She's seen glimpses of it, maybe, but never in a full dose like this.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I never said you did."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Just wanted to make it clear that I wasn't going to." Emma shrugs, making a clear note in her mind of how close he is to her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He is close enough to touch, but not close enough to smell, and the way he's moving, he'll be that way very soon.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods. "Ah. But you weren't… you weren't even curious to read it, were you?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma senses a tone of teasing and flirting and she's suddenly aware of the fact that they're <em>both</em> finding each other equally as interesting and attractive.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Is that something she even wants?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Kind of.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Probably.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maybe.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"No.” Emma gives him an annoyed look. “Of course not."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian searches her eyes, that smirk still ever-present on his lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Searching for a little relief, love?" He's still teasing, though his voice is gruff and quieter as his eyes become just a hue darker. "Perhaps an itch needs scratching?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She swallows and breathes him in. He's all ocean and that stupid soap they use in the bathroom with a hint of coffee. She isn't sure if it's from his breath or his sweater where he'd spilt some, or maybe he just naturally smells that way- but she's smelling it. She's smelling it all. It's <em>overwhelming</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I'm not sure what you mean.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Aye," he mutters, laughing quietly as he tilts his head down a little. He sets the book down and straightens up, eyes trailing over her face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They just stare at one another, desire burning between them like a bonfire in the winter, a trend that’s happened more and more lately. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He seems to realize what's happening faster than he usually does. He steps away and closes his eyes on a sharp intake of breath. "I…"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma lowers her gaze to the floor for a moment before she meets his eyes. He reaches up to rub the back of his head and pivots on his heel toward the doorway leading into the kitchen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I should, um, go check on things outside." Killian finishes. He lowers his hand to his side and starts to go. He turns back toward her when he reaches the doorway. "Thank you again for the haircut."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods her head and manages a smile. "Yeah, no problem."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian enters the house well past suppertime, fully expecting Emma and Henry to be asleep.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>However, to his surprise, there's music playing in the living room, and when he steps into the space after discarding his coat and boots, he discovers Emma sitting on the floor, wrapped in a blanket, lit by flickering candlelight as she flips through the pages of an old, thick leather bound book.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His eyes go wider than hers do when she looks up at him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Bloody hell," he curses under his breath. "Where did you find that?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma shakes her head. "It was in your bedroom." She leans away from the book and her fingers draw it closed. "Sorry. I should’ve asked first if it was okay."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian sighs and takes his hand through his hair. It's a weird feeling, now that it's short. He drops to his knees on the floor beside her and shakes his head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"No, it's not… it's fine," he tells her. "I just thought I lost it."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma frowns at that. "Really? It wasn't hard to find. It was just in a box under your bed."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian looks at the book. Emma slides it toward him and he lifts the cover, pushing it to the side. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On the first page, there's a photo of him and Liam as children, Liam holding a baby Killian in his lap while their father sat beside them on the green and white striped sofa.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He traces his fingers over the photo and looks beneath it, at the one photograph he still has of his mother.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's not lying in bed, as he remembers she mostly did as a small child, instead she's sitting on his father's lap in the living room by the fireplace. She's smiling and gazing at her husband, her fingers pressed to his cheek as she spoke to him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"She's beautiful.” Emma says.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian clears his throat and turns his gaze up to her. "Aye." He flips the page. "She passed when I was very young. I hardly remember her."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma smiles softly. "I know how that feels."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He takes a breath and finds a pair of photos of Killian going into kindergarten. He wore hand-me-downs from Liam while his older brother snapped the photos.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Oddly enough, he remembers that day quite vividly- how when he returned from his first day of class, excited to share with his father how things had gone, his father was nowhere to be found.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Taking another steadying breath, he runs a finger against the edge of the page. “My mum kept a journal during her last year. She wrote in it everyday and left it to us to remember her with. Took pictures everyday, too. ‘S why this book is so big.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He and Liam hated it. She’d force them to pose against the plain white wall near her bed, snap the picture, and then send them off. On occasion, she let him choose something to take a picture of instead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her locket, sitting on her nightstand. A pair of worn socks kicked aside on the floor beside the door. Liam’s face, zoomed in close so it filled the blurry frame.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian flips the pages toward the end and his heart skips a beat at the sight of the woman staring back at him. He’d forgotten that he’d put her picture in this book.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He must stare at it for too long, because it prompts Emma to say, "Who was she?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian looks up at Emma and sighs. "She was… my whole world."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's waiting for an explanation, he knows she is, and he shakes his head because of it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Why do you want to know, Emma? Why did you go looking for this?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stares back at him and seems to withdraw. "I just… I don't know. You're secretive and I have to live with you and I don't know if you're going to hurt me or-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The assertion makes him angry. "I'm not going to <em>hurt</em> you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma’s eyes grow wide. "Well, how was I supposed to know that? I mean, you helped us, but… it's a month on an island with two people you never wanted here. I guess we kind of owe an explanation to each other, don't we?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He considers her for a moment. She does have a point, as loathe as he is to admit it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I suppose." Killian drops his gaze to the book and clears his throat. "Her name was Milah. She and I were seeing each other just before I joined the navy and she stuck with me after Liam passed. Could've been a hell of a lot worse if she hadn't been there."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He feels sick to his stomach, but he soldiers on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I guess it was about five years ago now. We were living in London and she wanted to come out to see the lighthouse and I agreed to take her." He smiles slightly. "She was pregnant. Only about two months along, but we were both excited anyway. Being on a boat didn't help in the slightest, though. She was bedridden for almost the whole trip." Killian bites on his lip. He shakes his head. "We fought. We fought a lot, actually. We were both incredibly hot headed."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian sucks in a breath. "I got an offer from the coastguard to operate the lighthouse as a job, because ships were crashing here and-" Killian pauses. "I agreed. Milah didn't think she could stay. I took her back home and it was the biggest mistake of my life. There was a huge storm that night and I couldn't see-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It flashes in his mind, the moment he lost her, and he can't bring himself to explain it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I tried to save her, but-" Killian stops himself short, tears burning in his eyes. He draws his left arm up, glaring at the monstrosity hanging from his limb. "This bloody-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma reaches over and touches his arm. "Hey, it's okay. You don’t have to..."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They stare at one another for a few lingering moments while he calms himself down with deep breaths through his nose.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Well, you wanted to know who I am. That's who I am," he says. "I've lost more than my fair share, so I'm here on this island to protect myself from hurting myself and anyone who knows me."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma shakes her head. She stares down at the photograph for a few moments before a slow, soft smile spreads on her face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"One day, when my dad was really young, he found a dying blue bird outside on their porch and he brought it inside to try to heal it, but hours passed and the bird didn't get any better. It died. He said his mom told him that dying is the easy part. It takes a will to live." </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma pauses. "I guess what I'm saying is you're still here. Living. That counts for something."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Perhaps it's foolish to think that maybe he could start new, but as he stares at Emma he can practically see himself happy again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Help me to bed?" she asks softly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Aye."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian and Emma move in silence as he helps her hobble into the bedroom. He hoists her up into the bed and she pulls the covers over her, still sitting up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stares at her, suddenly feeling as if he has one more thing to say.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I was bitter when you first arrived. I didn't want you interrupting my little world," he tells her. "I realized my fault when I got to thinking about all that you'd done on that busted leg when you didn't have to." He tosses his hand, a smile filling his lips at the memory. "It's been a long time since I've had to live with anyone, much less a headstrong lass as yourself."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma smiles at the complement. She picks at the blanket over her lap, averting her gaze briefly. "When we leave, are you going to stay here?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He frowns, upset that she’d think he could do such a thing. "It's my life here, Emma. It's my work and my home. I built this place with my brother. I'm not about to leave it."</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Eight</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Emma wakes with a start to the sharp and abrupt sound of Henry's crying.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>The next thing she hears is thunder, booming as soon as she opens her eyes. Rain pounds against the roof and slaps the windows while the wind howls and moans like a wailing woman.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>The room is dark and warm, and she immediately runs her fingers through her hair, feeling just a little bit disoriented. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She’d fallen asleep feeling dejected and upset by Killian’s declaration, wondering why she’d even felt that way when in her mind she knew it made not one lick of sense.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Now, with a storm raging just beyond the four walls of the tiny house on an island, she feels small and alone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Bloody hell,” Killian's voice carries from the other room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He bolts into the bedroom with his clothes thrown on, his scarf and coat hanging unfastened, and he calls out, "Lights aren't on. I'll be back- just-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She furrows her brow, listening as the man hurries back out of the room and closes the front door with a crash.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma lifts Henry into her arms as a roll of thunder washes them over. It's so weird that it can storm in the middle of a week filled with cold weather and <em>snow</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Hey, shh," Emma bounces him a little. "Henry, it's okay. I'm here."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She carries him into the kitchen as best as she can and starts to prepare him a bottle, not wanting to wait an eternity for Killian to come back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She continues to try and quiet the sobbing child while she waits for the milk to warm up on the stove and finds herself aggravated, because honestly, she could be anywhere but here right now.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She has a fussing baby in her arms, in the middle of a thunderstorm.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tears find her eyes as she's reminded of the very impressive fact that she isn't at home.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She isn't a phone call away from her mother's soothing voice. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She isn't a car drive away from her comfy bed or from Granny's grilled cheese and onion rings. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She isn't anywhere close to <em>people</em> she cares about at all.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She is on an island, with a man with whom she has quite possibly the most complicated relationship with, and she has to take care of someone else's crying kid, just because it’s what fate wanted for her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her heart races and her stomach churns as she blinks hot tears free, streams gliding down her cheeks as quickly as they start to fall.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All she wants is a warm hug from her father and a mug of hot cocoa from her mother. Maybe even one of those ancient black and white movies they always end up putting new words to just for fun.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma takes a shaky breath, trying to steady herself again as she pours the warm milk into the bottle and she turns the stove off before taking Henry to the table to feed him. She bites down on the inside of her lower lip and sniffs, wiping her eyes and cheeks on her shoulder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She isn't sure how long after she burps him she sits there, watching his little face as he falls asleep to the sound of the tossing world around them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's still so overwhelmed and she swallows at the lump in her throat to no avail, blinking out more tears. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The door squeals when it opens and she shuts her eyes, because Killian can't see her like this. The air is cold when it blows in from the outside and she only gets relief a moment later when the door closes again with a gentleness as if he'd closed it himself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma opens her eyes away from him, wiping at her eyes with her hand with haste, pulling on a weak smile when she faces him again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shucks off his coat and scarf, everything about him soaking wet, and kicks off his boots.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Is he okay?" he asks softly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma looks down at the boy and nods, pushing back the chair a little as she stands.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She avoids Killian when she goes back into the bedroom. She puts Henry down into his bed and sits beside him on the floor, clasping her hands in between her thighs to warm them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She doesn't want anything but <em>home</em> right now and home is three weeks away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian enters the room a few minutes later, as if sensing that something has changed in her all of a sudden.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She keeps her gaze fixed on the sleeping little boy, envisioning her mother's smile and her father's warmth wrapped around her in a hug. It doesn't help as much as she wants it to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What's wrong, love?" Killian drops beside her, his face filled with worry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma shakes her head. Nervously, she pulls at her sleeves and keeps her focus on Henry. "I just… I want to go home and I can't."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tears come sliding out of her eyes and down her cheeks and Emma sniffs, closing her eyes to let more tears out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Time will go by much faster than you think."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lower lip trembling, she takes a shaky breath, unable to speak. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Finally, she manages, “My parents probably think I’m dead.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Through blurry vision, she feels him reach out for her. His touch is hesitant and she flinches a little at first, but then relents, sliding into him as his arm goes around her shoulders.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He holds her while she cries and she feels no closer to better than she did a few minutes ago. The only solace she has is that the tears are done and her breathing has evened out again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When Emma pulls away, she stares at Killian and breathes a laugh as she wipes at her eyes. “I don’t usually cry like this. Sorry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian reaches out to run his hand down her arm a few times, as if she needs him to warm her up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What happened to you is a tragedy.” he says, his voice as gentle as she’s heard it, “You’re injured, on an island in the middle of the ocean, stranded here until help comes. You’re allowed to feel upset. Trauma is painful.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma’s chest heaves with a gasp of a breath, feeling understood, somehow.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Would you like a hot cocoa?" his words are practically whispered in the midst of the crashing storm around them. "Might help you sleep."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His suggestion almost makes her cry again, but she manages to hold it together, instead nodding vigorously before Killian rises from the floor and walks out of the room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma has another long look at Henry, wondering for the millionth time just who his parents are and why he was just washed ashore in a basket. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When Emma walks into the kitchen, the storm outside beats loudly against them and rings louder in her ears than it had before. She wraps her arms around her chest and has a seat at the kitchen table while Killian busies himself at a nearby counter.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It takes him all of thirty seconds before he turns around with a mug in his hand. He carries it to the table, sets it down in front of her, and then sits next to her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's probably the most comforting thing she'll get here on this island.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma smiles thankfully and wraps her hands around the mug. She stares down at the whipped topping and cinnamon. For someone who has tried to show time and again that he doesn't care, Killian definitely has shown her he does.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Did Henry come with a note or anything that gave any clues about where he's from?" she asks, looking back up at Killian.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He seems surprised by her question, but then furrows his brow in thought. "I don't think he did. I didn't think to look, actually."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma shrugs. "Maybe his basket-?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian doesn't need her to finish her statement. He stands up and goes to go find the basket he'd tucked away somewhere with Emma's soiled shoes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In the meanwhile, she has a sip of her cocoa and thinks about the first thing she’ll want to do once she’s home again. Probably sleep for as long as she possibly can. She misses the comfort of her own bed, in her own room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Well, this is a surprise," Killian pulls her out of her meditation.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He holds a small envelope wrapped in a plastic bag in his hands. He promptly undoes the packaging that's secured with tape as if to keep it waterproof.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"How'd you miss it before?" Emma asks. Curiosity rises within her and she feels nerves in the pit of her belly, as if this is going to change anything about their situation at all.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian shakes his head. "The boy was crying. Besides, it was hidden on the bottom of the basket, out of sight."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods in understanding. She watches on bated breath as Killian scans the front of the envelope.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"To whom it may concern," he reads. He tears open the envelope and folds open a small note written on what looks like notebook paper. "To whom it may concern: I hereby relinquish my son to whomever reads this letter. I can't take care of him. It was never something I wanted. I never even gave him a name. I hope you'll give him a name and a future that I never could. I realize placing his basket in the sea seems like a stupid idea, but I think the sea will bring him home."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma watches Killian look up at her after flipping the page over, as if searching for an end to the note. She shakes her head slowly. "So… his mom's a mess."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian raises his eyebrows. He sighs heavily and sits down again, settling the note down on the table. "I guess you could say so." He glances up at her as she sips her drink. "Do you want to keep him?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her heart jumps once again in her chest. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Of course she's thought about it. She's thought about what she'd do if she got home and had the chance to keep him. They'd probably move into a little house and Emma could paint his bedroom and in a few years they could get a puppy or a kitten that would lick his toes and make him giggle uncontrollably.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Um…" Emma takes a deep, thoughtful breath. "Yeah." She smiles a little and brushes her hair behind her ears. "I mean, if you don't-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"No," Killian says, doing that pathetic thing he does, smiling half-heartedly before losing it completely. "Can't very well raise a child out here."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma stares at him in silence. Rain crashes against the roof and thunder rumbles nearby. She can hear the chaos in the midst of this night and she knows it'll be impossible to sleep.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I don't suppose the TV works in the middle of thunderstorms, huh?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian laughs once. "No, most certainly not." He straightens up. "But I do have playing cards if you'd like to play a game."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma holds open her mouth thoughtfully. She shrugs, not sure what <em>else</em> they could do with their time. She's not tired anymore and the storm would probably keep her up if she tried sleeping.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Sure."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian lets her win, but he doesn't tell her that. He likes the way her eyes light up, and how she laughs every time victory finds her side.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I win again," Emma grins.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sets her hands down on the table and Killian groans playfully in defeat. "Damn. I was quite close that time, wasn't I?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The storm still rages on, but he can tell Emma's getting tired. She cracks a yawn and he can't help but mirror the action.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He eyes her afterward, tilting his head back. "Are you ready for bed, then?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma smiles softly. "Hmm. Yeah. What time is it?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian shakes his head. "It's definitely too late for us to be awake. I know that for certain."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She yawns again, shorter this time, and eases herself onto her feet. She's getting better at walking on her own, and he thinks her leg might be healing faster than they anticipated.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Regardless, she waits for him to catch her under his shoulder and he helps her into the other room. The contact makes his stomach flip more than it usually does- probably the result of spending far too much time making eyes at each other and laughing the night away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Did you let me win?" Emma wonders.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian scoffs. "What kind of a man do you take me for?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looks up at him with a wry smile on her lips. "As one who would let me win because I'm feeling homesick."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma stops moving, so he has to as well. His arm falls away from her and she turns toward him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She tilts her head to the side as if she's disappointed in him. "You know I didn't need you to do that."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I thought it would help you feel better," Killian admits with a sigh. He watches her smile kindly. "Did it?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma shrugs. "A little. I guess."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She searches his eyes and he loses himself in the way her eyes crease at the corners and how gentle the blush colors her cheeks. She's so beautiful. He's never noticed it before, really, how completely radiant she looks even with tiredness weighing her eyelids low.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma looks away for a moment and returns her gaze as she speaks, "When I get back home, I have to see someone I don't really want to see."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian raises his eyebrow. "Oh?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods. "His name's Neal. We used to date but we broke up-" She grimaces, not wanting to get into it. "Anyway, he wants to get back together because he swears he's different." </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She pauses, this time examining him with a thoughtful glint in her eyes. "I think I was going to say yes, before I ended up here."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her admission has his head spinning. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What changed?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma laughs quietly through her nose and shrugs. “I don't know. Something about being stuck with nothing but my thoughts and Henry…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She pauses, clearly dealing with something in her heart. She searches his eyes and her jaw tightens just a little.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian's heart softens. He smiles. "You love that boy more than you thought you would."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma has tears in her eyes as she nods. "Yeah."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He watches her carefully. She doesn't look away from him for a second, as if he's more interesting than her drowsiness.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian, feeling as if he should say something, clears his throat and shrugs. “I admit, I've grown more attached to him with time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She laughs again at that. "That's good." Emma stares at him in silence, their bodies swaying closer together than before. He doesn’t think he breathes. "Killian, I-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before he knows what's going on, Emma has her fingers gripping his shirt and her lips are on his.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shuts his eyes and delights in the feeling swelling up inside him. Her fingers slide away from his shirt, instead finding a grip in his hair so they can wreck him in the best way. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian hears her sighs mix with his own, starts feeling absolutely drunk on the feeling of <em>Emma</em>, and that's when he pulls away, breathing heavy as he rests his forehead against hers.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Emma-” he tries, cursing himself for enjoying that as much as he did. He manages to open his eyes and finds her staring back at him timidly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Sorry," she murmurs, shaking her head. "I thought... I thought we were on the same page."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sucks in a breath and steps away from him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It only takes her a few steps to get into his bedroom and in that time, his heart and brain both absolutely scream at him that it's a mistake if he lets her go to sleep thinking he doesn't want her as much as he does.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Gods above, he <em>wants</em> her. Every part of him physically aches with grief and frustration that he could allow her to walk away from him now.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian presses his fingertips to his lips. He can still feel the gentle press of her tongue on his lower lip, can still feel her warm body pressed against his.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Bloody hell," he grumbles, slumping down on the couch. He rakes his fingers through his hair angrily. "You've ruined it."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He almost gets up to promise Emma that her advances weren't in vain, but then he thinks about where they'll be at the end of this. She's going home, to America, and he's never going to leave this place.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You don't have to do that, you know," Killian mutters to himself, playing the devil's advocate on behalf of himself. "You could go with them."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He likes the picture he sees in his mind's eye. A family. He, Emma, and Henry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian tosses onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He thinks of Liam and of the time they'd put into this place. He thinks of Milah and his unborn child. He thinks of leaving all of those memories behind. It would be wrong to abandon them on the island. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Wouldn’t it?</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Nine</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>In the morning, Emma wakes to an unusual smell. Well, for her time on the island, unusual.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She bites her lip as her eyes squint open, gazing over at the window that allows a soft white light through the curtains and into the bedroom. She sighs as she stretches, thoughts of the night prior fresh in her mind.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Part of her wants to hole up in the bed for the rest of the day, to hide from Killian and any awkwardness that might exist now. But she decides to be stronger than that. Their kiss, while it certainly hadn’t had the ending she’d hoped for, wasn’t a mistake.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sits up, wrapping a blanket over her shoulders to go into the kitchen.She checks on Henry before she goes. He's still sound asleep, his little fingers twitching while he dreams.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When she enters the kitchen, Killian's standing by the stove with a pan and a spatula, looking every bit the scuffled morning mess he usually is.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His hair looks even <em>worse</em> now that it's cut, standing on end every which way. He's wearing nothing but a pair of sweats and she swears her breath doesn't catch at the sight of the muscles she finds herself wanting to run her fingers over.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He turns when he hears her feet against the floor and smiles a little. "Morning, love."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma smiles just a little in return. "Morning."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Everything about what’s happening right now feels weird. He's usually out doing chores right about now and he never spends this much time cooking.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For breakfast, it's always usually something fast and easy, if anything at all, but instead, he has a single plate with two round pancakes sitting on top of it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian tips his head toward the table. "Made you breakfast. Hope you like pancakes."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma goes to sit at the table. He brings a plate of two slightly undersized, lopsided pancakes to her. Nothing for him. He sits beside her, seemingly content with a glass of water that he doesn’t touch.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re not eating? Again?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian manages to smile. “Those are every last ounce of pancake mix from the back of the pantry, so… enjoy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her stomach gives a prompt grumble, making her helpless but to give into Killian's random act of kindness.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Why aren't you out doing your chores?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His gaze shifts to her and she feels as if she's caught him in the act, of what she isn't sure, because his expression is caught between deer in headlights and guilt.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sits back in his chair. "We need to talk."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma narrows her eyes at him. "And are you bribing me with pancakes?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shakes his head. "No."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She presses her lips into a line and sets her fork down, wrapping up tighter in her blanket. She stares at him, letting him have the floor.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"There are a lot of things about this situation that aren't ideal," he says on a sigh, clearly having thought what he’s saying through, "Food, Henry… the weather. The thing is, Emma, I have spent a long time on this island grieving and I haven't spent hardly any of it living."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her heart jumps.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian sits forward again. "I'm sorry I..." He hesitates, then straightens out, meeting her eyes with purpose. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you this last night, but I want to be on the same page as you now."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's heart begins to race again. Her eyes widen on their own accord. "What page is that?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He takes a shaky breath. "I can't let anything happen between us. I'd rather forget it did and move on, actually."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Regret precedes embarrassment in her mind. She feels every ounce of hope draining from her in just a heartbeat. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's staying here and she's leaving. It would never have worked. What was she <em>thinking</em>?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I… it's okay," she insists on a false smile. She looks down at her plate. "It was a one time thing."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She would like to set fire to these Bribe Pancakes and to her memory, because now she has the distinct memories of what transpired in the middle of his living room flashing in her mind as she contemplates what this means for her and him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His hair had been soft between her fingers, and his lips were gentle as he reciprocated the affection of her kiss. His hand on her hip, squeezing with each desperate gasp and sigh.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma hadn’t been kissed like that in <em>such</em> a long time. Part of her knows he hadn’t either.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Yeah. Of course."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She tries not to seem rushed when she picks at her food to try and eat again, but she knows she's coming off like it. Frustrated, she sets her fork down and gets up from the table.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian catches her by the arm, looking her in the eye, demanding an answer but not asking any questions.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Nothing can make the fact that we kissed disappear."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He furrows his brow. "Of course not,"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's jaw tightens and she yanks her arm out of his hold. Unexpected tears fill her eyes and she groans a little, upset for getting so emotional over something so trivial.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I'm sorry I'm not good enough."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She walks out of the house and straight into the cold morning as fast as she can, ignoring the pain that comes from her knee. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's still fairly early in the morning, so the sun hasn’t quite risen beyond the horizon yet. Her breath is a soft white cloud when she exhales and she folds her arms to her chest as she starts to walk toward the beach.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maybe she is just an idiot. She shouldn't have kissed him in the first place.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>No one ever thought she was good enough until David and Mary Margaret. Not even Neal really did.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's never had a good relationship with a guy until this thing with Killian got to the point of smiles and teasing and comfortable a few days ago.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And now she's panicking, because she threw it all away when they kissed. It broke their relationship in half, sending them in a completely new direction. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And it's not like she'll ever be able to just forget about it. Especially if they're living together.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma stands at the shoreline where the water washes up in slow, rolling waves. The salt fills her lungs and the cold, crisp air stings, but it reminds her that she is still alive and that means she has less than three weeks to prove that very same fact to Killian.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The front door clatters shut after squeaking open behind her, but she doesn't turn around.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stands there waiting for something- anything- before she hears his boots behind her and then she feels something warm being draped around her shoulders.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She reaches up instinctively and smiles a little in thanks at him over her shoulder while she slips her arms into the coat. He moves so he stands beside her, both of them looking away from each other.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Silence sits heavy between them for so long that she wonders if there’s any point to him having joined her at all.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I think you're good enough, Emma."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She turns her face to see him. He is looking out at the horizon, his eyes and jaw set.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I don't know why I said that."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian turns to her, a perfect mixture of sorrow and grief in his eyes. "The reason I wanted to put it behind us was because I feared you would be the one to pull away."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She scoffs. "So you were being chivalrous, then?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shakes his head. "I'm just trying to say that neither of us were quite prepared for the repercussions and we need to take some space to figure it out."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sighs. "And just what do you think should be done about that?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She tugs at her coat and folds her arms. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I think we should go back to the way things were.” Killian says, but for some reason, she isn’t sure if he believes what he’s saying. “I'll take the couch. You and Henry in the bedroom. Chores in the morning and we don't see each other until lunch."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stares at him, biting her cheek because she wants to refute that it is impossible to be back to the way things were. She's kissed those lips and she's felt his hair under her fingertips. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Somehow, he's ruined her for anyone else.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Okay," she sighs, letting a cloud of white fill the space between them. “If that will make it better.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian gives her a pleading look. “Emma…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma looks back at the ocean ahead of them. She tugs at her sleeves, trying to find the words she wants to speak. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you think this happened for a reason?” Emma asks, the question not even necessarily for Killian, but for herself as well. “I could’ve drowned. Henry could’ve frozen.” Turning to Killian, she finds his head tipped down, focused on kicking a rock on the shore. “But the ocean brought us here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her companion finally meets her gaze. “I don’t know.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Taking a breath of the salty air, Emma shuts her eyes. “I’m sorry that we interrupted you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She walks back to the house in silence and goes about her daily business after the door comes clattering against the doorframe.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They don't see each other until lunch and she forces herself to smile, forces herself to let go of all of the emotions she's feeling toward him and about him, and casually goes about her day, which mainly consists of reading his books and folding some laundry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>By the time dinner rolls around, she has tidied and re-tidied the entire place twice over and has set the table for grilled cheese she made for herself and for Killian, because dammit, she's not going to let him starve. He's an idiot for thinking she'd let that happen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He comes back inside and sighs, obviously happy to be out of the cold. She has Henry in her arms at the table, feeding him as she reads over a play by Shakespeare that he's annotated quite liberally.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Grilled cheese," she tells him, closing the book and setting it on the side of her plate by the wall. He looks at the plate and she can tell he's about to say something, so she speaks instead, "You're an idiot if you think I'm the kind of person who lets another human starve just so I can feel full. There's enough for both of us to have small meals. Just… no more pancake surprises."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They eat in silence and she bites her lip thoughtfully while she watches him finish.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Did you go to college?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looks shocked by her question, a little confused, and then he shakes his head. "Straight into the Navy. Why?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma takes the book and opens it up. "I've been reading a few of your books and I'm kind of blown away by all of these notes on the side. Do you like to read?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She knows the answer to her own question. She's just digging.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He gives her a crooked smile. "Liam used to read a lot to me growing up." He looks down at the pages and hums. "Shakespeare. Very good taste, darling. Though, you could've picked a comedy. Macbeth is about as dark as they come." She watches with a small smile as he lifts the book and fingers over the pages. "Here we are. One of my favorites. The Taming of the Shrew. Lovely tale."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma hums, admiring the way his eyes shine as he reads over his own writing on the side. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Have you ever written anything?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian looks up at her and nods slowly, tentatively. "I've never shared with anyone, but I have."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She smiles softly. "I'm sure it's good, if what you write on the side of an already existing piece of work is good."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He chuckles in a self-pitying way. Clearly, he doesn't think so.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Would you care to read some?" he asks, seeing that she won't let it go.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nods.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian pushes back from the table and rises, going straight into the living area. When he returns, he holds a leather bound notebook in his hand, opened to a specific page that he reads from. He holds it to himself nervously as he sits down again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Promise you won't tease me."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma rolls her eyes. He hands her the notebook then and she smiles as she reads it over.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His writing is beautiful. It rises and falls perfectly in every line. She is drawn in by the vocabulary and the phrasing, taken by the imagery and the sophistication. She swears he could be famous one day because of it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She grins, looking up at him. "This is amazing, Killian. You have a real talent for this."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looks a little embarrassed, shaking his head. "I doubt that greatly, love. But thank you for the ego boost of confidence."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sighs. "As if you need more of that."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That makes him chuckle and a smile crosses her lips as she looks back into the journal, flipping the page to find more of his work.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's so good that she barely realizes that she's still holding Henry until he stirs and grabs at her hair. She rips her eyes out of a short story involving a lost ship at sea and looks to Henry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Chill out, Dude."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She takes his small fist from her hair and makes him hold her fingers instead, flashing him a happy smile that he reciprocates. She looks up at Killian, who has his chin in his hand, staring straight at her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Just who are you, Emma?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She flashes a coy smirk at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She returns to reading with a teasing smile on her lips. The air between them is comfortable, surprisingly enough. She bites her lip as soon as she finishes a story and looks at him again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"It's really good, Killian. You could publish this."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shakes his head, grimacing a little. "It's nothing."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sighs and closes his book. He's been good at keeping a relative distance from her, but she sees something in the blue of his eyes that's begging to know her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma packages all of the feelings she's felt in the last twenty-four hours into a tight ball, tucking it away in the back of her mind and leaving it to rot. She can't let him wreck her like everyone else has. She's a survivor on her own and she can handle herself. Anyone else just doesn't do the job she can on her own.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She pushes back from the table and takes her dishes to the sink before she carries Henry into the other room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When she returns, Killian is still at the table, clearly in thought as he follows her to the sink. He comes up next to her and she glances over when their shoulders brush.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There's still a spark between them, the intensity is still just as strong, just as provoking, and it isn't easy to ignore along with everything else, but she does her best, holding her breath as she takes their dishes and scrubs at them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The next time she sees him, it's lunch the next day.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Ten</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>During Henry’s naps, Emma has taken to reading for most of the day. So far, she’s made her way through almost thirty books, which must be a record of some kind. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>If anyone had told her two weeks ago that she would become a stereotypical housewife for the better part of a month, she would not have believed it. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>In the real world, she’s a police officer in Storybrooke with her father, who is sheriff of their little town. It's not a busy place, but it suits her well enough. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She gets plenty of time off and she spends a lot of it helping her mother with preparing for her classes at Storybrooke Elementary. The woman is a saint, but sometimes she does need someone to help her balance such a heavy workload.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>One of the things she’s most excited about is getting to sit with her mother while she eagerly wonders about every little detail of Emma’s life. It can be annoying, sure, but her mother has to be one of the most genuinely kind people in the world.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That kindness is something that Emma takes into consideration while she pours focus and heart into her day-to-day efforts with both Henry and Killian.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pondering what one act of kindness she could perform for Killian, Emma makes a less-than-half serving of oatmeal for herself. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry sits on a blanket on the floor nearby, playing with a makeshift doll that she’d fashioned out of an old shirt. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He is a cute little boy, with his little dimples and his sweet, excited babbling. But the more important thing is that he seems happy, despite everything that’s already happened in his life. She’s glad he won’t have to remember this experience. One day, it will just be a story she’ll tell him and he probably won’t believe it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The front door opens with a squeal and comes clattering back as Killian steps inside. He looks over at her with worry in his eyes. "We've got some unwelcome company."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma furrows her brow. "What do you mean?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Every so often, a ship of pirates comes off the coast of the island. I've never dealt with them directly. Usually I have to signal back to the mainland for help, but since I've disarmed our radio, we need to make all appearances that we are not home."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fear rushes into the peace of the morning faster than she can think to breathe. Her heart begins beating faster, whirling thoughts and worries silencing her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She turns the stove off and moves the pot to keep the breakfast she’d been preparing from burning.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian already makes his way through the small house, flipping off lights and ousting the fires that keep them from freezing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nervously bites at her lip and crouches down to gather Henry up into her arms. He chatters sweetly in her ear and she smiles, setting her palm to his belly as she gives his cheek a reassuring kiss.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Come on, baby. We're going to play somewhere else." </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She steps into the living room where Killian enters in from the bedroom.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"The fires are out. Hopefully they haven't seen the smoke yet."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods. She doesn’t know what to say. Pirates weren’t on her bingo card of potential worst case scenarios, so she truly finds herself fearful and out of her depth.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian tips his head toward the bedroom. "Why don't you and Henry hide in there in case something happens?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>In case something happens.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Whatever dangers he thinks these pirates are capable of sends shivers up her spine. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What about you?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He goes over to the bookshelf, digs into a box he keeps higher up, and removes a gun and its components.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I'll be fine, love.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma wants to argue, but he comes up to her and presses a kiss to her forehead, his hand warm against her arm. She squeezes her eyes shut, not realizing that she would be so worried over something that the circumstances are so unclear over.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It hits her as he's leaving a kiss to the top of her head that he's trying to comfort her. That maybe he's worried about the <em>end</em>. That maybe he has no idea what’s about to happen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She watches him as he walks away, then takes a shaky breath. "Be careful, Killian."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He turns, his eyes filled with anguished determination. "Stay hidden. It shouldn't be long."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma holds the back of Henry's head and walks with him into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them. She carries the baby to the bed and sits him down, taking a few steadying nervous breaths as she stands by him, watching his curious little eyes light up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She wonders what Killian’s doing, if he's sitting out in the kitchen or if he's going to go outside. She can't really hear anything, and it produces a sinking feeling in her gut as she tries to keep Henry occupied.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After a little while, she hears shouting voices, but she can't make out the words for the life of her, and she bites hard on her lip as she gathers up Henry in her arms. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Quickly, she goes to the opposite side of the room, ducking to hide as best she can behind the bed. She holds Henry tight to her chest, determined that she will protect him at all costs.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’s shocked when she hears gunfire and her eyes widen, holding the little boy ever tighter, especially when he whimpers fearfully. He can clearly sense that something is going on, so she puts her hand over his ear and her chest against his other, allowing him to listen to her pounding heart instead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"It's okay," she hushes him. "We're going to be okay. Killian is going to take care of us."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma clamps her eyes shut. She doesn't know if she actually believes that or if she just needs to hear it from someone. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The doorknob to the bedroom jiggles before it opens.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fear crawls along her skin, but she manages a deep breath, recalling her training as an officer. Prepared to fight, she decides she’ll put Henry under the bed to protect him before making her move and grabbing the shovel that leans against a chest opposite the bed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hesitantly looks up and over the top of the bed, expecting the absolute worst.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Relief fills her chest at the sight of Killian standing there instead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rises to her feet. "What happened? I heard shots."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I took care of them." He clearly isn't very distressed about what happened, but he trembles a little upon closer examination.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma crosses the room to stand before him at the door. "Are they gone now?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian nods. "For the moment at least. They've taken my warning."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Acting on impulse, she wraps her free arm around his neck, burying herself in his grasp. He tightens his arm around her and she hears him sigh.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I was worried about you," she admits softly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He allows her to rest in his embrace for a few solemn moments before he speaks. "How is he?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma shuts her eyes and breathes him in, taking the moment to be thankful that they’re all safe. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She takes a step back, looking at Henry where he hangs over her hip. He chirps and babbles, making her smile as she tugs at his little makeshift outfit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"He's good."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian smiles softly when she looks at him, reaching out to tug at Henry's foot. "That's a lad. Did you keep Emma safe for me?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry makes a noise that makes them both laugh.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma kisses the crown of his head and smiles when he decides to collapse against her collarbone with his hands clutching at her hair.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When she looks at Killian again, he admires her with eyes she's seen more often lately.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's been getting better with Henry, but the little boy still prefers her company to his, probably because Killian refuses to hold him for very long. He helps when he wakes up crying in the middle of the night and sometimes sings to him and plays with him in the evenings when they're all gathered in the living room with nothing else to do.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"How are you?" she asks him. "Did they hurt you or anything?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shakes his head, a smile playing at his lips. "I was the better arm."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Thank you," she says again, seriously.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods once. “How about you, love? Are you alright?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She takes a breath, assessing, and nods. "Yeah. I am. Just a little shaken up, I guess.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On another instinct, she brings her hand up to his face, gently thumbing over the apple of his cheek. She feels him lean into her ever so slightly, his eyes falling shut briefly when her hand meets his face. “I'm just glad nothing happened to you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His eyes are full of longing. It's downright ridiculous..</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Emma," he breathes out, shaking his head slightly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She feels her chest tightening and she doesn't know what to say. She pulls her hand away and swallows at the lump in her throat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looks at her for a long few moments, then steps a little closer to her. He pauses and cradles the back of her head with his hand, pressing his lips against her forehead in a lingering kiss.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Without another word, Killian turns to go. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma takes a deep breath, unsure <em>what</em> that was about.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She laughs with Henry when she has him sit in the tub to take a bath. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's happy to be in the water and he splashes her far too much, but she doesn't mind. Emma spends quality time scrubbing his hair and putting bubbles onto his nose to make him giggle.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maybe being a mom isn't such a bad thing. In fact, she kind of likes it. A lot.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She wraps Henry up in a big warm towel and dries him off, cuddling with him on her way back to the living room. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The front door opens and closes as she's wrapping Henry's make-shift diaper over him, smiling as he watches her with curiosity. Emma pokes his belly and he flails his legs, making her laugh.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You are a very lucky boy, Henry. And I'm lucky that I met you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She strokes up at his hair, making it into a little wispy mohawk before she pulls him into an outfit created by one of Killian's old tee shirts.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry kicks his feet and clutches at her hair as she kisses all along his little face. Her heart swells warmly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Hey, I love you, little guy. Do you know that? I love you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry just blinks at her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I'm going to love you for a long time," Her heart races, because she's never loved anyone like this before. "I promise nothing is going to hurt you as long as you and I have each other."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma gives him another kiss to his cheek and sits with him in her lap, her hand pressed against his belly while one of his hands examines her other one.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She glances up, finding herself looking at Killian leaning against the doorframe. She wonders how long he's been watching her when he unfolds his arms and crosses the room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian sits beside her on the sofa and she turns to look at him with a cautious smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Did you finish working?" Emma wonders as casually as she can.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods and looks down at Henry when he chirps. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"He's a noisy fellow, isn't he?" Killian asks, smiling a little.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma laughs, nodding in agreement. "He's really happy right now. He loves having baths."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian reaches in and strokes Henry's soft cheek with the back of his hand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You're good for him," Killian tells her softly. "You make a good mother."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma feels a blush fill her cheeks, something she thinks he must notice, because he smiles at her softly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Maybe the ocean brought us here for this," Emma muses. She turns her attention onto Henry. "I mean, since it'll probably never happen organically… this is my one shot at being a mom."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When Emma looks up at him, Killian furrows his brow at her in confusion.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rolls her eyes at her own logic. "You know, because I do so much better on my own. I chase off decent guys and cling to stupid ones."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hums thoughtfully. "And where do I fall in that spectrum?" She opens her mouth, her ears reddening and words not coming forward. He chuckles, resting his hand against her thigh. "I see."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma gapes at him. "It was just a kiss. I don't think that constitutes being on the spectrum. I thought you didn’t even want to consider… <em>us</em> being… <em>involved</em>."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian tips his head to the side in thought.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her jaw falls open in mild surprise and she shakes her head. "We're only going to be here for another week and a half, Killian."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stares at her for a few seconds and sighs, pushing his head down so he stares at his lap. "I know."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma stares at Henry. He's sleepy, his head drooped and his eyes falling shut.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I know I keep asking you this, but, when we leave, what's going to happen to you?" she asks boldly. "Are you going to stay here?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian stares at her, his gaze unfailing. "Emma-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"If you can't tell me you don't want to come with me, then it's not worth the heartache."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma manages to smile at him, regardless of the tight feeling in her chest. She stands to take Henry into the bedroom to sleep. As she stares at the boy in his cradle, she thinks about the absurdity of it all.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s all on his own here. He has a clear cut way out if he leaves with them, but he won’t take it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Determined, she marches back out into the living room and faces the sofa where Killian's still sitting.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Why are you here? On this island?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian looks up at her and shakes his head, wordless.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You know that you're not cursed, right? You've had some horrible stuff happen to you, but that doesn't mean that everyone you care about has to die, or that you’re never going to have a life like you had before everything happened."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian clenches his jaw and stands up, clearly getting a little wound up by what she’s saying.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Just because you're here, Emma, and just because we're friends, it doesn't mean I'm ready-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"That’s crap. Don’t tell me you’re not ready.” Emma shakes her head. “You keep telling yourself that and you're never going to have any space in your heart to move on.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He laughs, spiteful. “You’ve been here two weeks and suddenly you’re an expert on what I’m ready to do?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I want you to come home with us,” Emma argues passionately. “Okay? I want you to come home with me and Henry, and watch him grow up, and… meet everyone I love and learn new things and go new places…” Feeling weary, she sighs. “I want you to stop hiding out here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m not…” he stops himself, falling quiet.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Searching his eyes, she waits for him to finish his reply, but he doesn’t. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re not alive so you can act dead, Killian.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pivoting fast on her heel, she goes into the bedroom, but knows they're not done with this fight.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The couch is an uncomfortable bed, but he's gotten more or less used to it in these past few days. He drags a blanket over him and stares at the wall across the room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His heart races and his mind is a blur as he considers Emma's frustration over his choices. Maybe he's being stubborn, but it's for a good cause. His life has been one disaster after another.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian thinks about Liam, how strong his brother had been up through the end of his life. Liam probably wouldn't want him wasting his life away just as much as Emma doesn't.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On a grimace, Killian shakes his head. No, Liam's gone, so he doesn't get to have opinions, and Emma barely knows him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But still, it feels like he's falling into the deepest, darkest pit and he's never going to be able to get out. The heart of him cries out in silence, begging him to follow Emma and Henry away from this island.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She <em>wants</em> him to. She wants <em>him</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It <em>terrifies</em> him, the thought of living a life away from here. Especially after stranding himself here for so long.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma might be worth it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She wakes to the sound of Killian's voice.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her eyes open slowly and she realizes in a jolt of awareness that he's sitting at her side, his fingers pressed against her arm to try and shake her awake. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The room is softly lit by early dawn's glow, and she'd think nothing of Killian being here, but they did just have both pirates <em>and</em> a pretty serious argument. His being at her side this early in the morning could be for anything, as far as she knows.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma pushes herself upright. Her eyes blink open wider and she forces herself to wake up as she asks, "What's going on? Is everything okay?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She places her hands between her thighs and looks up at Killian, who sits in silence. He wears a dark expression on his face, something sorrowful knitting his brow.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Suddenly, he slides his fingers down her arm until he finds hers. Emma's eyes meet his in surprise and he smiles slightly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"There are reasons," he tells her. "Reasons I didn't pursue you when I had every opportunity." He scans her face with determination. Clearly, he's trying to fight something in his mind. "But I'm tired of waiting on the demons from my past."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With her heart in her throat, Emma notices that there are dark circles under Killian's eyes, as if he'd been up all night thinking about the weight of the world that rests upon his shoulders.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If he’d been up all night thinking about this, then what she’d said to him must have been meaningful.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I… don't..." Emma pauses. She shakes her head. This is something she never would have expected. Her fingers fit easily between his and she stares down at them with her heart still racing. "Killian, I don't want to get hurt when I can leave."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiles a little, his eyes absolutely flattering her with the way they light up with adoration. "I don't know if I'm ready to leave, but I know I want to keep you in my life."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She tilts her head, resting it on her shoulder. "Killian-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiles as he mirrors her, clearly captivated by something about her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I'm terrified of what it means, but I want to be with you, Emma." Killian says solemnly. "When we kissed, it exposed something." Her gaze shifts back to his. Her heart races at the words tumbling from his lips. "I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah, to believe that I could find someone else, that is, until I met you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her heart squeezes tight and she feels tears for no actual reason prickling at the surface of her eyes. She knows he's being serious, because of that deep, meaningful look in his eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma takes a deep breath, like the moment before taking the plunge, and leans in close to him. He's warm and kind when he kisses her, not demanding a single thing from her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And as she kisses him, for real this time, she feels something she isn’t sure she’s had in a very long time. She feels hope so tangible that she almost worries that it’s too good to be true.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Eleven</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Henry is happy when she finds him in the bright of the new morning, cooing and kicking his little feet.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She laughs softly, then lifts him up to hold him while she pads into the kitchen. The house is relatively cold, thanks to the winter weather, and Killian hasn't gotten up yet to put a fire on.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Maybe when Killian smells breakfast he'll get up."</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>In response, Henry just grins happily, little creases by his eyes. He holds a fist in his mouth and sucks on it as if it's a lifeline.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma settles Henry down on the floor with his blanket and his repurposed shirt of a toy while she works, humming a little to herself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Last night, things had changed. For the better.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’s glad that dancing around Killian day after day is seemingly an activity of the past, but she can’t help but wonder just how things will be different.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>To be perfectly honest, she still isn't sure what he wants. She isn't sure if he's going to stay with her no matter what his head says, or if he'll stay out of fear.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s still plenty of time for things to change, but she’s okay breathing in the new day with hope for the future for now.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As if hearing her thoughts, Killian comes into the room at that very moment.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His bare feet click against the flooring to alert her to his presence and she looks over at him with a soft smile that he mirrors. He's wearing sweats that hang low on his hips and his hair is jutting upward. He winces a little at the light.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian wraps his arm around her from behind and spins her around, pulling her into his arms with ease. Butterflies swirl in her belly at his touch, both possessive and kind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stares up at him, biting at her lip while he smiles at her, and for a short, delirious second, she dreams of a future where this is a natural part of the day.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma laughs. "What are you doing?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian continues to grin at her sleepily. "Good morning, love."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Breathless, she replies, "Good morning.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smirks at her, then glances at the oven as she slides her hands down his arms.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I see you found the last of the pre-packaged scramble." He wriggles his brows at her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma hums.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A personal favorite.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She gives him an annoyed look for the sarcastic drip in his voice. “I know, it’s gross, we’re tired of it… but I figure it’s better than day seven in a row with oatmeal.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smirking, Killian presses a kiss to her cheek that burns from his beard scruff pleasantly afterwards.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He slips away and she watches him crouch down on the floor with Henry, her heart squeezing as he pokes him in the belly and makes him giggle.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian sits down at the table with Henry in his lap, talking to him about something in a sweet, low tone, and she swears it's more like home than anything has ever felt in her entire life.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When Emma dishes up two plates of pre-packaged scrambled eggs, she takes them to the table and has a seat by Killian while he tickles and teases Henry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian stares at her after a few moments, his smile still happy and warm. "Would you like a tour?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma gives Killian a confused look. "I'm pretty sure I know this place better than you do."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian laughs. "No, no." He tilts his head back just a little. "The lighthouse."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's heart skips a beat at the prospect. She hasn't ever been out to the lighthouse. She just knows he spends full days out there, doing who knows what. Killing time, she suspects.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Oh," she says. She manages a smile. "Yeah. If you want to. I know you like to do things out there."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What do you think I do?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma shrugs. "I don't know. You just… disappear."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian shakes his head. "Well, we'll head out after breakfast and put your mind at ease."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma holds Henry in her arms while Killian guides them out to the lighthouse. He keeps an eye on them, eager to see their expressions when they enter.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's dressed in one of his coats, his hat snug on her head. She's adorable like this, cold but bundled up warm.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Meanwhile, Henry's been secured in everything they could manage to wrap around him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"When we go back, I think he'll be really happy to know clothes aren't all oversized men's shirts." Emma had muttered to Killian's responding laughter.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As they approach the lighthouse, Killian turns to Emma, finding himself feeling more nervous than he had been when he’d first offered the tour.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Now, I want to apologize ahead of time for the look of it," Killian says. "It could be better."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma hums playfully. "I'll be reporting you to the proper authorities as soon as I'm out of here."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian laughs. He's glad they're able to engage one another like this. Glad they're able to be <em>friends</em> as much as partners in this situation they've found themselves bound to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shakes his head and sets his hand on the door handle. "Just give me grace."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's smile is soft. She nods her head. "Of course."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nerves pinch at his belly as he opens the door. They step inside and Killian clears his throat, the sound echoing against the walls slightly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Alright. Emma, Henry," he smiles. "Welcome to the lighthouse."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma looks around, awe in her expression, and she scans the room he uses as his office and workshop. "Wow. So this is where you hide out all day."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian rolls his eyes. "It's just an extension of the house. Not really that big of a deal."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Hm," Emma keeps a neutral expression. She goes to the desk he has set up on the ground level and leans against it, craning her head back so she can look upwards. "Can we go up?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Aye. Of course."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And they do. Emma doesn't speak, something that curiously makes him even more anxious. When they stand on the landing with the light, Emma immediately goes to look out at the water.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Wow." she breathes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stares out at the water with her, trying to do it with fresh eyes, as Emma might be seeing it. It's vast and empty. It's lonely.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian turns to look at Emma after a few moments of silence. She has tears in her eyes and she swallows, turning away from the view to instead look at the light.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"So is this the light?" she asks, clearly trying to ignore the fact that her emotions had the best of her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian frowns. "Are you alright, love?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma shakes her head. "I'm fine."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian gives Emma a look, lifting his eyebrows. "Tell me the truth. No use keeping secrets."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For a moment, she hesitates, worry in her eyes as she turns away from him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I just miss home," she tells him finally. "Nothing I can fix right now."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It makes him feel bloody awful, but there isn't anything that can be done. She's here with him until help comes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The best thing he can do is help make the waiting period a good one so that when she leaves, she’s leaving with good memories.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian takes a deep breath and glances out at the water. It's terrifying- the prospect of leaving, of having to set sail for the first time in years.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fear tightens in his throat and he blinks a few times, forcing himself to face Emma and Henry again. Oddly enough, they provide him enough peace to feel as if his world isn't spinning anymore.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In the evening, Emma sits on the floor of the living room listening to a record play on low. Her head rests gently against Killian’s shoulder and his arm is settled around her waist. He allows her to trace lines against his palm lazily, no words necessary in the intimacy of the quiet of the night.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's late. Her eyelids have started to droop and she's not sure what's keeping her up, if not the warmth of the comfort of Killian.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma drags her teeth over her lower lip as she studies his hand in hers and then settles both of their them over her middle.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Will you tell me something?" he asks softly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looks up at him, eyes gentle and lips quirked slightly. "What is it you'd like to know?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian pauses thoughtfully. "Tell me about your adoption."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's honestly surprised. Of all of the conversation topics, this is one she never would have guessed he'd bring up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He chuckles softly, turning his hand upright to tangle their fingers so he’s holding her hand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Come on, love. I've told you all about my miserable past. I'd love to know about your beginnings."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She smiles, because no one ever really cares this much, and takes a moment to consider what telling him about her past could do. She knows this is new and fresh, and it's completely different, for all that it is.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They are alone on an island in the middle of nowhere, with no other human contact but with each other and a baby. There isn't anyone he could go run off and tell, not that he would, and not that she worries he would.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There is just the constant worry at the back of her mind that when she has to leave, she'll never see him again, that telling him about herself is pointless chatter to fill the time. It's the biggest fear she has about being with him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But he is a friend and an equal. She feels like she can talk to Killian and he will listen, because that’s the kind of man he is. He is patient and kind, when he isn't angry or alone in his wallowing. With her, he's been relatively <em>good</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I was found on the side of a freeway in Maine," she tells him with a sigh. "My parents had wrapped me in a blanket with my name on it and that was all they apparently wanted from me, because I haven't been able to find them."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She closes her eyes briefly as she continues. "I lived from home to home for a long time, until I was fifteen. I met my adoptive parents after I got out of an abusive home and I've lived with them since." Emma takes a shaky breath. "No one really wanted me before them. I had a family until I was three but they had their own baby and gave me up."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma feels her eyes burning hot like they do when she thinks back on the childhood that she had to live through.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When Emma leans back, away from Killian, she finds him sympathetic, his brow dipped and his frown sorrowful. He wipes at the tears that have slipped free from her eyes and she smiles in thanks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You deserve so much better than what you've been given."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hears genuineness in his tone and she nods, because she's heard it before from Mary Margaret and David, <em>a lot</em> from them, and she knows it in her heart that her parents didn't abandon her because they hated her. They wouldn't have made a blanket with her name on it if that were the case.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Thank you,"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He searches her eyes and leans forward to kiss her forehead, making her close her eyes and breathe him in deep.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When he slides back, Emma moves to curl up in his lap. She presses her cheek to his shoulder and his arm wraps around her, holding her tight against him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's warm and comfortable and safe.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Tell me something."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She suddenly wants to know <em>everything</em> and anything, and she doesn't want to fall asleep in fear of the nightmares returning her to the man who burned his cigarettes into her arm and hit the woman who made her cookies for her birthday.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Or to the place where she was left and betrayed a hundred times over again. People and places shifting with each passing day. People never wanting her the way she deserved to be wanted. People never loving her the way she deserved to be loved.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It isn't like Killian is ever going to be able to give that to her, but at least he isn't going anywhere right now, and he does care for her enough that he listened and didn't say anything that showed her that he sided with the evil in her past.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"My father abandoned me when I was a young boy," he tells her, and she almost laughs, because they're both pitiful messes. "And you know my mum passed after I was born. I don't remember her. Liam used to tell me stories about her."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"How much older was he?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Seven years," Killian says with a smile. "Used to pick on me an awful lot."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma laughs when he chuckles. "Sounds like he loved you a lot."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Aye," he hums. "As much as a brother could."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She wouldn't know what that feels like, but she has an idea that it must feel a lot like friendship, only closer. She can sense it in the way he continues to tell her stories about their time in the Naval Academy, about how he used to pull pranks on him until Killian finally wised up and pulled pranks back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He has her laughing and forgetting, and for once, she doesn't feel like she's stranded on an island with a stranger.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They continue to talk well through the night, about anything, really.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tells her what it is that he does in that lighthouse of his. She tells him about what her favorite movie that he hasn't seen in the past four years is.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They speculate and formulate stories about Henry and where he came from, laughing about silly plot lines where aliens sent him to earth from a desolate future to save the human race, but they miscalculated and sent him too far back and attached a letter to his basket to make him sound human.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She knows him now. She knows about who he is and how he is. They've shared, intimately, stories and memories. Hurts and aches.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And yet, she doesn't know if it's enough.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I think I should go to bed," she whispers, gazing at Killian with her head pressed against the back of the couch so she can look at him. Her legs are draped over his lap and their hands are still entwined over her thighs.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian searches her face and smiles, nodding slightly. "Aye. It's late, isn't it?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Hm," Emma closes her eyes. With a determined sigh, Emma pulls herself up and cups Killian's cheek, her thumb caressing his scruff. "Good night."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian awards her a sleepy smile, his eyelids droopy and his voice scratchy and low, "Good night, love."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For a second, she just admires him, and he admires her, time slowing as she fondly thinks back on the day they’d shared.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Kissing him sends her flying, but she anchors herself, nuzzling his nose in the moments afterwards while she tries to catch her breath. He leans in for one more and she allows it, because she kind of loves the way it feels to have his affection.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She presses her forehead to his, humming contentedly. “Ok. Seriously. Good night.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian manages to steal one more kiss, both of them laughing by the time they break apart.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m finished now,” he murmurs, his ears pink and his cheeks rosy. “Promise.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her heart feels absolutely full, desperate to stay with him a little longer, but she determinedly climbs off of him instead. She only turns back once she’s standing at the door to the bedroom, biting at her lip to keep from saying something stupid.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's filled with hope, by the look on his face, that maybe today was enough to prove something to him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's eagerness fades into something twisted and frustrated as she falls into bed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Going back to Storybrooke together is something she hasn't spent enough time thinking about.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>What's going to happen if she shows up with a baby on her hip and a guy holding her hand? Her parents are going to flip. Neal's probably going to be pissed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The Emma they knew was not the person she is now.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After Emma goes to bed, Killian finds that he’s just a little too wound up to fall to sleep, so he goes out to his lighthouse.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He slumps down at the desk, pulls open a drawer, and removes the pieces of the radio that he'd smashed against the wall of the lighthouse.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With a sigh, he examines his handiwork. He's been working, slowly but surely, to piece it together, in the hopes that maybe by some miracle, he’ll be able to radio for help and they won’t be stuck here until the supplies boat comes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He slinks back against his chair and scrubs his hand over his mouth, staring blankly at the mechanism on his desk.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The idea of leaving feels all too real now, especially after the day he’d spent with Emma. They’d spent hours talking, laughing, and honest. She’d tasted sweet when she kissed him, so sweet that he couldn’t let her get away with just one kiss goodnight.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a wild part of him that can already see them leaving the island, getting married, giving Henry a bunch of siblings, and growing old together. In fact, he can imagine it so well that his heart skips a beat at even the imagined life they’ll have together.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There isn’t a doubt in his mind that choosing Emma over the ghosts of his past was the right decision, but he now stands at the edge of a precipice.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fix the radio and leave soon, or continue to wait.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Almost automatically, Killian begins to tinker with the wires and screws. It doesn’t take long for a light to flicker on, a testament to just how long and hard he’d been working on this for the past week or so.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His heart skips at the sight of life from the machine. He steps away from his desk, staring at it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Leave soon, or continue to wait.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Taking a deep breath, Killian shuts the radio off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It would have to wait until the morning.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Twelve</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Killian startles Emma awake before he can do the honors himself. He settles a bowl of breakfast on the nightstand and then sits on the bed.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"What are you- is everything okay?" She has awful morning breath and a voice to match, but she's never been more lovely, with her ratty golden curls and the pillow scars on her cheek.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Everything's fine," He smiles because he can't help himself. "I made you breakfast." He gestures to the bowl. "Henry's got a bottle, too, in the kitchen."</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Emma's expression softens as he explains and she actually smiles back at him. "Oh. Well, thank you, Killian."</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He can't help but admire her, even in the way she yawns and rubs the sand out of her eyes. She scoots upright, stretching a bit, and he still doesn't look away, something she notices.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You okay?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Embarrassment colors his face and he shakes his head. "I… I was hoping, maybe, tonight we could go on a date."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma stares at him with wide eyes. Obviously, she's confused. "A date?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian pulls on a smile to give himself strength and nods his head. "Aye. A date. Tonight."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"How?" Emma asks. "Kinda… alone on an island."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian laughs. "I realize." He searches her face. "Just… trust me with the details. What do you say, love?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma holds her mouth open in thought. He'd imagined this would go much simpler and smoother- especially considering their interactions the day and night before. She'd been eager to share about their pasts and just as delighted to share in his personal space.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I…" She suddenly breaks out in a grin. "Yeah. Okay."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Good," Killian smiles back. He leans in to kiss her, but thinks better of it, instead kissing her forehead. "I've got to go tend to some things. I'll be back."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's eyes shine bright at him as he steps away from the bed. He glances down at Henry where he lies in the cradle and bobs his head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"See you in a bit."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma laughs at him, a delightful sound, as he continues to step backward to the door. "See you later."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As Emma adjusts to the new day, she realizes that Henry's been unusually quiet, based on the schedule she’s known him to keep. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With a frown, Emma leans over Henry's cradle and finds him sleeping, his chest rising and falling with a little noise escaping his nose. She presses her hand to his forehead and her frown deepens.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's warm. <em>Much</em> warmer than he was last night.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's heart rate quickens as her mind races. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>What is she supposed to do? He's too little to give medicine to. Is it even a fever? How is she supposed to know for sure?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Worry clenches tight within her chest, very nearly paralyzing her to the point of staying still.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Quickly, she shakes herself out of it. Killian can help.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She folds her arms against her chest and hurries out of the bedroom into the living area of the little house. Killian isn't anywhere to be found, which isn't a surprise. By now, he’ll probably be in the lighthouse.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She steps into a pair of boots and grabs a coat before she frantically hurries outside, a grimace on her lips at the freezing cold air nipping at her nose. She can see her breath in front of her and she thinks the sky looks like another storm. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>To her luck, Killian is just barely at the lighthouse door, so she calls out his name and he spins around, already making his way to her so she doesn't have to do more work than she needs to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What's wrong?" he immediately asks worriedly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma shakes her head. "He... Henry's warm. It's not- I don't think it's normal. I'm worried he's sick."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian frowns deeply. "Is he still asleep?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods. "Yeah."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His concern carries them both back into the house and into the bedroom, where they both look at the sleeping boy.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian feels his forehead. He frowns deeper than before and she can tell he's not satisfied with the temperature of their boy. He looks at her after a moment of contemplation.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think we should let him rest. When he wakes up we can try and cool him off with a bath."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods in agreement. "Okay."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She lets out a worried breath, rubbing her hands down her arms to try and soothe herself. Seeing this, Killian pulls his arm around her middle and kisses her temple.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"He's going to be alright, love."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's stomach churns, but she manages a smile at him. "Okay."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He doesn't look convinced. "We won’t let anything happen. Yeah?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma closes her eyes and presses her hands over her face. "You say that, but look at us, Killian. We're nowhere near anyone who could actually help him and he's so <em>small</em>, I-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Hey," Killian holds onto her, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Henry will be fine. We're not going to panic, Emma."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods weakly. "Okay."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian drags his hand over his head and clenches his jaw. "I need to go check on something, but I will be right back, love. I promise."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's so sure of this, but all Emma can envision is a dark, dark future.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her stomach aches from worrying and she decides to leave the room, lest she disturb Henry's sleep. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She can’t help but wonder if this is normal. She isn't even related to Henry and she is out of her mind scared.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sits at the table, staring at a single line of dialogue on a page of a book she'd been reading. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The day had started so optimistically. They were going to have a date, and maybe that would have led to something good between them, but instead… she's worried about Henry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It doesn't take very long for the front door to open up with its patented squeak. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian enters with a slight smile on his lips. "It's started to snow."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She manages a smile back at him. "Really?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods and steps out of his boots, takes his coat off, and then comes to join her at the table. "I'm afraid it's officially winter."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma chuckles at the melancholy in his tone. "Do you like the winter?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shrugs. "It isn't a terrible season. Just unruly."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma hums. She stares blankly at the book in front of her again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She realizes suddenly that Killian has no reason to particularly like winter. He doesn't have anyone to share it with. He doesn't come home to hot chocolate and Christmas movies. He doesn't get into any holiday season cheer. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There are no festivals or lights. No friends to exchange gifts with. No family to wake up to on Christmas morning.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma holds her breath as she looks at him. He's so different than anyone else she's ever been with. She can tell he cares. He isn't lacking in that. But he's still a broken man held together by his clever wit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Henry will be fine, love."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She blinks a few times at him. "I hope you're right."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They work together to get Henry taken care of all day. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When he wakes up, he's crying, clearly irritated and maybe a little fearful. He's burning up but clearly has chills and he's got a runny nose.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian only warms the water up a little and they bathe Henry together.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He isn't his cute bubbly self, though he does find it hilarious when Killian carries him into the living room with his tiny fist in his mouth while Killian pretends to chomp on him dramatically. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's carrying Henry's former outfit and a new diaper along with his old one, and when Killian sets him down on the couch, they function like a well-oiled machine as they redress him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry apparently loves the attention, because he keeps relatively quiet the whole time, his eyes bouncing back and forth between them as they work and speak.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After they change him, he becomes fussy and tired, so Emma holds him and Killian sings until he eventually falls asleep. He's still warm, but not as warm as he had been earlier, so Emma puts him in his little bed and goes to sit by Killian on the couch.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He is comforting in this situation, with his kind voice and his fingers that lace so perfectly with hers. He presses his lips to her head and she rests her cheek against his shoulder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What do you think it is?" she asks, voice small. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His hand strokes at her forearm. It's the most calm she's felt since she woke up this morning.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Dunno, love," he sighs. "I'd say the flu, but I'm not sure that the symptoms are the same in babies."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hums. "Could be the flu." She narrows her eyes and gnaws at her lip. They sit in silence for a few moments. "Don't you have stuff to do?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sighs. "Aye. But this is more important."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma dips her brow, sitting up so she can see him. "He's asleep, Killian. There's not much he can do asleep."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods. "But you're very much awake and I know you're taking this hard, so you need me to stay here with you. Keep you company."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's expression softens and she studies his eyes. "Oh."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiles gently, lifting his hand to stroke back her hair. "Believe it or not, not all men are arrogant assholes intending to harm you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma has to laugh a little, pulling out a smile from him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And then realization and memories set in and she feels tears in her eyes. She is suddenly weakened by her past; suddenly thrust into the whole reason she shouldn't be with him in the first place.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She can't stay here. She needs to go home.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian is a lone wolf. He won't ever want to leave his work for her, his <em>home</em> for her. He won't ever want to sacrifice this so that he can be with her in Storybrooke, because that's just the kind of man he is. He has his own world and she has hers.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She doesn't blame him for that. She <em>does</em> blame herself for ever collapsing into this relationship. She feels comfortable in his arms. She delights in his laughter and his smiles. He completes the parts of her that hurt, but maybe that's the worst part.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She allows herself these last few days, because soon, they'll be parting ways, and right now, her little boy is sick and the only other person in the world who understands how that feels is holding her hand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian’s heart throbs in his throat while he stands at his desk in the lighthouse. He presses his finger against the switch to the radio. The light flickers on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Clenching his jaw, he fidgets with the settings until he’s satisfied.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was only one way to find out if all of his tinkering actually worked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The crackle of the airwaves gives him hope, but when he actually gets a reply to his call, he closes his eyes tight and a breath of air escapes his lungs in relief.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Mister Smee, it's so good to hear your voice."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"We were going to come check on you, Jones," Smee says with worry. "What happened out there?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian hesitates for a few moments before pressing the call button and speaking. "Radio troubles. Listen… a woman and an infant washed up onto the island a few weeks ago. The baby's fallen ill. I need help as soon as possible."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For a beat after releasing the button, he waits in silence.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Emma Nolan?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian manages a small smile and nods. His fingers tighten around the receiver. He clears his throat, forcing himself to respond. "Aye. That's her."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"She's all over the news. Her parents have been looking. It's good to hear she's alright."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian doesn't respond for a moment. While he couldn’t say for sure that Emma was entirely healed, she was definitely better off to a certain degree. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You can get a message to her parents that she's eager to go home to them."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee laughs into the radio. "Can do, Jones. I'll be on my way at first light. Wouldn’t be a clean rescue if I came during the storm tonight."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Knowing help is on the way gives him some peace. Now if they can just make it through the night...</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"That'll do fine. Thank you, Smee."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sits up next to Henry on the floor of the bedroom. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hasn't really eaten all day and she's exhausted because it's getting close to midnight, but she needs to watch him. She <em>needs</em> him to be alright.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Emma?" Killian's voice pulls her from her half-dazed thought. She looks up. He's standing in the doorway with a concerned look in his eyes. "I've made something to eat. If you're interested."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>While she’d like to continue to sit on the floor with her legs tingling and her stomach grumbling, she knows she needs a break from watching Henry sleep. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Okay."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When she reaches the kitchen, she finds the table set for a romantic dinner for two, a candle in the middle of it all.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma turns to Killian, an unasked question on her lips, and he shrugs. "You said you'd go on a date with me."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She has to hide her laughter as he pulls out her chair. When she sits down across from him, he gestures to her bowl.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Tonight, we'll be dining on stew and bread. An island specialty."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They eat in silence for a few moments, with the exception of a romantic instrumental playing in the background. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She has to admit, it's a sweet gesture to get her mind off of Henry and what could possibly go wrong.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With a soft sigh, she looks up at him and finds he's staring back at her, nervous.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"So, what have you been up to?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian shifts in his chair and shakes his head. "Not much." He forces a smile. She can tell because it stays at his lips and travels no further. "Been thinking about what a date between us would look like mostly."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma scoffs and shakes her head. "Yeah, well, it probably shouldn't look like this."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Why not?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma shrugs. "It's late at night and I'm… only thinking about Henry. And about how much I want to go home." She sets her spoon down in her bowl and covers her face with her hands. "God, I'm sorry, Killian, I'm really sorry, but I'm just… we can't keep doing this."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She removes her hands and her shoulders sink, her heart feeling heavy. "We're playing house."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He immediately stands up, going around the table to kneel beside her chair. He takes her hand and searches her eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I fixed the radio," he says. Emma's heart jumps in her chest. "So that you can go back home and Henry can get the help he needs, if he needs it."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You…" Emma struggles to keep the tears from her eyes. "You fixed the radio?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian nods. "Aye." He searches her eyes. "Your parents have been looking for you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's all so overwhelming. Emma can't stop the tears from coming and she ends up releasing a harsh breath as she begins trembling just slightly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I'm going home?" she asks in a shaky voice.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Aye. You're going home, love. You and Henry both.” Killian smiles at her. “In the morning, a boat will be here and can take you back to the mainland." He searches her eyes, shaking his head slightly. "And from there, you can hop on a plane home."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He strokes the back of her hand with his thumb.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In all of her excitement, she feels a bittersweet sadness weigh on her chest. She shakes her head. "You're not coming with us?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For a moment, he just stares at her. He swallows and a smile flinches at his lips. "I… wasn't sure if you'd want such a thing."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma shakes her head and sniffles as she catches another tear with her knuckles. "I want you to be happy. If that's here or there…"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nervously, she stops herself. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There's a chance he'll say no, that he wants to stay here, and she'd understand, but now that she's certainly going home with Henry in tow, she feels nothing but joy and that joy is tampered knowing who he was before she came into his life.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian averts his gaze from her for what feels like an eternity.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She doubts herself and their bond, ashamed that she’d even ask if he wants to join her if he’s this uncertain about it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And then, he meets her eyes with the gentlest of smiles. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You and Henry make me happier than I've been in a long time." Her heart swells at the admission and she feels a hot tear slip down the side of her face. She wipes at it hurriedly. "I'll stay with you. If you'll have me, that is."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She can't help but smile. "Of course I will."</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Thirteen</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Emma wakes up to the sound of low laughter. Confused, she turns toward the noise.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Beside her in bed, Killian sits up with Henry. His feet are flat against the mattress so that Henry can lean against his knees, giving her a good view of the happiest smile on Henry’s face. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Killian leans in and blows noisy raspberries to his skin, making the boy erupt with delightful noises.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Henry's fever had broken at some point before they had gone to bed- probably around one in the morning- and now things are better, things are good.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She's going home today. They're <em>all</em> going home today.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maybe it's the reason she'd allowed things to escalate the way they had the night before. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Flashes of memories come back to her, enough to warm her cheeks and ears as she contemplates the feeling of joy in her chest that's almost enough to make her giggle like Henry is.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian's hook is somewhere on the dresser across the room and his chest is still bare, though his necklace clings to his neck for a while before Henry latches onto it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian chuckles at the interaction and Emma hums, reaching out to tug at Henry's foot.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Good morning," Killian says with a wry grin on his lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma smiles at him. "Hey."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian turns to Henry. "Look, Henry, Mummy decided to join us."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma smiles a little, her heart jumping at the unfamiliar nickname. Henry babbles, turning to see her after a short while. He looks excited at the sight of her and they laugh when he holds his arms out to her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sits up beside Killian and takes Henry from him with ease, setting him on her lap in a familiar fashion to Killian. She holds his tiny hands and kisses his forehead, nuzzling her nose against his hair so she can smell the scent of baby on him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Hey, baby," she smiles, leaning back again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry reaches for her lips and she kisses his palm, faux biting on his fingers when he insists upon having her eat him. She rolls her eyes playfully and tugs his hand away after a moment, then turns to see Killian.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's gazing at her with a lopsided grin. His hair is matted and it's almost as if this is the last time he'll ever get to see her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's then that she knows he's definitely coming with her, that he's not going to chicken out and stay because it's easier to. Clearly, his feelings for her, and for Henry, are true.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma bites on her lip and presses her chin to his shoulder. She searches his eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Last night was really…" Emma pauses, a laugh bubbling up in her chest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian hums cheekily. His eyes light up and his ears burn red. He reaches up to scratch the spot behind his ear as he searches for the right words. Having found none, Emma giggles and kisses his shoulder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I certainly enjoyed it." Killian agrees warmly and honestly. His dimples pop forward as he turns his attention to Henry. He looks at her again. "I'll go make breakfast. We've a long day ahead of us."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods. "Okay."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She accepts his kiss, quick and tender, and before she can say anything else, he's out of bed, pulling on his jeans and shirt, and leaving her alone with Henry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sighs at Henry, shaking her head to make him giggle. "Are you ready to go home, kiddo? Huh? We're going to have so much fun when we get home. And we can get you a real bath and real food. And a nice bed and stuffed animals and blankets-" She smiles at the ideas she has. "And your grandparents are going to love you so much."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Unable to contain herself, she kisses his forehead again before pulling herself out of bed with him on her hip. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She is far too excited that they're going home.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's half-dressed already, having slipped into Killian's sweater for bed, and she pads out into the living room to carry Henry into the kitchen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Hey, so I was thinking and-" She looks up and away from the baby in her arms to see Killian standing by the door with his coat and boots on, looking at them with sad eyes. "Is everything alright? Is it- is the weather... or the lighthouse-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shakes his head, cutting her off. Emma braces herself and holds her breath. Killian's jaw clenches tight and he turns to look out the window for a long moment. "Pirates."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's eyes widen and her heart plummets into her belly. This revelation has a very distinct potential of derailing their plans, and all she wants today is to go home.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What should we do? What about the boat that's coming for us?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He closes his eyes and sighs. "I don't know."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Suddenly, the world is on its head. She reaches up instinctively to protect Henry and her chest heaves as she glances out the window. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There are ships, she sees them, with big, terrifying black sails.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fear runs cold in her blood.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>At that moment, a knock at the door jars both she and Killian to action. Emma moves Henry out of the room, going straight for the bedroom where she closes the door behind her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tears burn in her eyes and she chokes back a sob. This was supposed to be a happy day. A good day.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She cradles Henry close to her body and paces the bedroom for a moment. She can't hear anything coming from outside of the room, except for footsteps.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The door opens before she can act and she glances around for something to use as a weapon, but she stops short when she sees it's only Killian waiting for her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"It's Smee." Killian explains, as if that name means anything to her. He holds a bag in his hand that he extends to her. "Hurry. Pack this bag with whatever you think you’ll need for the trip."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma goes blank for a second before she sets Henry into his crib and scrambles to grab everything she thinks they might need. She stuffs them into the bag and then grabs Henry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's breathless as she walks out into the kitchen where Killian waits for them. He's armed with his gun and a nervous smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She isn't sure how to feel about this. She should be happy, because it's her way home, but there are pirates threatening the island and possibly their ride home. Is it even safe?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Okay. I packed the bag. Let's go."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian stands there, silent and unmoving, and suddenly dread fills the pit of her stomach. It feels like a bad dream, but she most certainly isn't sleeping.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Emma, I have to stay.” <em>No. No. No.</em> “You and Henry can go, as long as we move quickly-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. "Why?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I have to protect the island," he says. He doesn't seem happy about it, but at least he remains calm and cool headed. "It's my job."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"No. No." Emma shakes her head. "Killian, you have to come with us."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She has a lot of questions and fears, but all she can think about is the fact that they'd gotten so close, and now they're being forced apart.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"It's not just the island or the lighthouse," he tells her. "I'm… protecting you and Henry. You know how dangerous it is when they come 'round. I don't want you in danger more than you have to be."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her heart breaks at his words and she meets Killian's eyes with tears in her eyes. "Just… come with us. You don't have to stay-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"As long as I can keep them busy, you and Henry can get away without any problems." Killian says firmly, though he has tears in his eyes. She can sense fear in the way he looks over his shoulder, out the window. "I'll make contact with Smee once it's over and he can come get me. And we can go home together."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It makes sense, but it doesn't help her feel any better.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma forces a smile and nods, despite the lump in her throat and the tightening in her gut that tells her she's about to make a huge mistake.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian smiles weakly and she knows he is just as broken up about this as she is. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As if he can sense that the battle to come isn't going to be easily won. He sets his gun down on the table and moves toward Emma. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His attention goes to the baby on her hip first. He reaches in to smooth his hair before he kisses Henry's forehead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Be a good boy, Henry. Keep a close eye on Emma for me."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma releases a quiet shaky breath, her limbs suddenly weak and her heart heavy.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian presses his nose against Henry's forehead, just breathing him in, and finally pulls away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’ll see each other again soon.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma knows it's already a broken promise. It just is.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She takes a deep breath and steadies herself before she manages to meet Killian's gaze again. She didn't think she'd be saying <em>goodbye</em> to him today.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's the last thing she wants to do, but she also knows it's the right thing to do. If she wants to get off this island in one piece, to home, to her parents, then she has to take the ship waiting outside and get the hell away from here. He’s right about that.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian stares at her apologetically, words that should be kept unsaid resting on the tip of his tongue, and she stops them with a kiss.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's heartbreaking and passionate. She's pressed up on her toes and he has a hand against her elbow, her hand on his neck and in his hair, desperation in the way she closes her eyes. She doesn't want to let go.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma presses her nose against his after, his forehead pressed into hers. Their breathing is heavy and she curls a fist against his chest where she can feel his beating heart. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This is the hardest thing she has <em>ever</em> had to do.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Emma," he whispers, "I'm so sorry."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Don't be," Emma says, taking a half step back. She wraps her arm around his waist and rests her ear over his heart so she can hear its beat one last time. "Don't be sorry for being brave."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She feels his chin against the top of her head and she takes a breath of him to remember him by. His fingers curl in her hair and she clamps her eyes shut.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This was just always going to be for a few weeks, wasn't it? They weren't ever going to make it past the island. He was always going to stay and she was always going to go.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’ll buy a house in Storybrooke and adopt a dog.” Killian tells her, squeezing her tighter. Her heart reaches out of the helpless place it had been, instead swelling at the idea of a happy life with him. “We’ll give Henry a few brothers and sisters. Your parents will adore me. And we’ll spend far too much time forgetting that any of this ever happened.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She wants to capture this moment and hold it forever, knowing that it’s possible that hard days lie ahead. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But, I do reckon we’ll argue about paint chips while we’re working on remodeling the house. Unfortunately.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paint chip arguments sound so <em>normal</em> and insignificant, all things considered, and the idea makes her laugh, fighting the tears already streaming down her cheeks. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sniffles, burying herself closer to him for just another moment longer. When she pulls away, she meets his eyes. “Come back to me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With a small smile, Killian nods. It’s not a promise, but she knows he can’t make a promise like that, not knowing the stakes are as high as they are. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"We best get going."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He walks with her outside and he introduces her to Mister Smee. The man is short and sweet, a little red cap on his head and a nervous tick in the way he seems to just fall to Killian's commands. The boat is kind of small and she is assured by Killian that it will be sturdy enough to take them to the mainland.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She smiles a little and nods. Mister Smee excuses himself to start the engine and Emma sighs, looking at Killian one last time so that she can never forget this man who took her in when he didn't have to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Somewhere, in the near distance, pirates loom, and she knows it's only a matter of time before they're here and Killian will need to defend himself. Alone, on this island.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She doesn't know what else to say. With the pressure mounting with each passing minute, she realizes they need to hurry and leave.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Killian, I…"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He's staring at her with sadness in his eyes and he shakes his head slightly before wrapping her in a hug that lasts only a few moments. He pulls away after a second, much to her chagrin, and gestures to the boat behind her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Go," he tells her. "We'll be in touch soon."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods. She climbs onto the boat with the help of Mister Smee's extended hand, and stares after Killian as they pull away from the island. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sees his gaze switch from her to the horizon, to the ships drifting near, and Emma nervously watches him go inside the house.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She turns to go deeper into the boat, through an outside door that leads to the place where Smee controls the small ship. As soon as she enters the area, they're rocked by an explosion of a sort. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma holds the back of Henry's head and widens her eyes as she stares at Smee. "What's happening?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee shakes his head. "Nothing to worry about, milady. We'll be alright. We're almost out of their proximity now."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma feels uneasy, so she walks to the door and peers outside, looking toward the island.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She should have stayed. She should have fought with him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"He'll be alright, Miss." Smee says over the roar of the boat on the waves. "Jones is the strongest man I've ever known."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The words should be soothing, but the only thing on Emma's mind is that she should have told Killian that she loves him while she had the chance.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With Henry finally asleep against her, Emma watches as the land draws ever closer through the windows all around the small cabin. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She can see a crowd of people waiting for them, a curious thing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma furrows her brow and stands up, moving to stand beside Smee in order to see what awaits them. "What's happening?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee smiles a sheepish smile. "The world's been looking for you. As soon as Jones told me you were with him, I couldn't help but tell somebody."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's eyes widen and a nervous feeling sits heavy against her chest. Her belly flips. What if her parents are here?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"<em>Oh</em>."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee gives her a smile. "Nothing to worry about, Miss."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They've come alongside the dock now, and Emma can hear the voices of the people outside, many of them calling for her. She adjusts Henry and grabs her bag.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Are you ready?" Smee asks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma manages a smile and takes a breath. She isn't ready, but there's no other choice, is there?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Yeah."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee leads the way outside, his gentle kindness something that she clings to, alongside the comfort of Henry in her arms, squirming as he starts waking from his nap.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Initially, all she can see is reporters and cameras. An absolute roar of questions and the snapping of lenses entirely fill her ears, creating a sense of claustrophobia. She's overwhelmed in an instant.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Emma, where did you go?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Is this your baby?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Are you alright?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma blinks, her jaw falling open as Henry stirs against her and fusses, drawing her attention for a second as she tries to soothe him. Mostly, she wants to make sure that the cameras can’t catch his face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looks up and brushes her hair behind her ear. "I- I'm fine."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Emma!" a voice calls, as if light piercing the darkness. It's her mother, and she swears she's never been happier to hear the woman in her life. "Emma! Emma! Oh, my baby!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma turns, finally finding her parents moving through the crowd of reporters and bystanders. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They're anxious and relieved, both of them teary eyed and moving as fast as they can. Her father looks like he might hit a reporter or two for crowding her, but then again, so does her mom.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She gasps and tears find her eyes as she rushes toward them. When they meet, her parents both reach out to touch her as if they're worried she isn't real.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma knows the feeling. She finds herself overcome with the need to be held by them, to quell the overwhelming feelings that have made her mind go entirely blank.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Mom. Dad." Emma says as she accepts their embrace.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Oh, Emma, you're here." Her mother whispers. "You're here."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her father holds the back of her head like he always does, a gentle comfort after weeks apart.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Who's this?" her father asks as they separate.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma smiles, looking at her little boy. He's awake now, his cries stopped. He holds himself close to her, as if she's a lifeline. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"This is Henry."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looks away after Henry takes her finger and smiles at her parents nervously.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Emma, he's so sweet," Mary Margaret awes, reaching over and stroking over his hair. "How are you, Henry?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry burrows closer to her and she smiles a little more. "We've had a really long day, haven't we, buddy?" He whimpers a little. "Yeah."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>From around them, she feels the cameras burning into them, watching their reunion. Reporters are still asking questions, she hears them ever so faintly, but they're drowned out by Emma's sheer relief to be with her parents again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her father has his hand already on the small of her back and she sighs, pressing her head against his arm a little.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Emma, we brought someone with us."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hardly has time to register what her mother's saying when suddenly, Neal Cassidy's walking toward her, a huge, happy, relieved grin on his face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Hey, Em."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Neal."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He wraps his arms around her and she has no choice but to accept. When he pulls away, he turns his attention to the baby.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Hey, dude," Neal says with a kind smile. He looks up at Emma, who truly can't believe her own eyes, that Neal would be here- that he'd be acting like a total hero and nice guy. "So he just… washed up with you or...?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods dumbly. "Yeah. He…" She looks down at Henry, who stares up at her. "He washed up right next to me."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Wow," Mary Margaret says breathlessly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nervous, she looks up at her dad, who smiles at her. “I didn’t think we’d get a grandson out of our vacation, but I can’t say I hate the idea.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma can't help the tears that come. She'd been so worried about Killian that she hadn't thought about what would happen when she came to the real world with a missing baby in tow.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her parents both wrap her up in a hug again before they walk with her away from the dock.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I'll get your bag." Neal says. He takes it from her gently. He moves ahead of Emma and her parents, holding a hand upright. "Alright! Get out of the way!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It works, blessedly, people moving out of their way as they move away from the ships and the water.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They reach a car that they climb into and Emma sits alongside her parents in the backseat, both of them seemingly not interested in separating from her for more than a car's ride to wherever they're going. She can relate, comforted by their warmth and gentle words as Neal drives them away from the ocean.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma stares back at the water for as long as she can, just trying to adjust to the feeling of being on land again, much less make her peace with having left Smee and Killian behind. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There's so much going on that she isn't sure where to put her focus.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>From her lap, Henry coos and murmurs. He presses his head back against her chest and his fingers hold onto hers tightly. As much as her own parents are her comfort, she is his. It's something that makes her stay stronger than she wants to be right now.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Are you hungry?" her mother wonders. She's holding her arm with one hand while another brushes her damp and grimy hair behind her ear. "Should we stop for food?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Cheeseburger?" Neal suggests.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma's stomach grumbles and she salivates at the suggestion. She nods. "A burger sounds amazing."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neal smiles softly at her in the rear view mirror and she smiles back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He came all this way just to see her. It means something. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>What exactly, she isn't sure yet, but she knows that her ideas about Neal Cassidy are turned on their head. Much like pretty much everything else in her life at the moment.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We finally have made it to uncharted territory! This chapter and the rest that follow were all cooking in my brain for literal years, y'all. I'm very nervous to share, but so excited I can finally finish this off!</p>
<p>Thank you so much for all of your support as I've reposted this story. It's meant so much!</p>
<p>I hope this ending answers questions, wraps up all the plot points, and warms your soul.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Fourteen</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <strong>One Week Later</strong>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>One of the world’s most ancient Garfield mugs is warm against Emma’s palms. She sits curled up in the window seat of her childhood bedroom unable to sleep. Henry, on the other hand, still sleeps to her immediate right hand side.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She <em>should</em> be sound asleep like him. It should be easy now that she’s home again in the safety of her parent’s house, with a perfectly cushioned mattress and food to last her a lifetime. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>But instead, her mind spins just fast enough to keep her heart racing, and all through the night, she finds herself running her fingers through the pages of one of Killian’s journals, reading and re-reading his private works until she thinks she could rehearse them on command.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Her cheeks are warm with the heat of the tears that seemed to so easily find her eyes. She shuts them, taking a deep breath through her nose.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>They didn’t let her return to the island. They <em>wouldn’t</em> let her return to the island. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>And worse, nobody, not even Mister Smee, has said a word about what happened to Killian or the island on the day of her return to civilization.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma’s parents didn’t want her going off on her own yet. Maybe it was out of fear- they’d lost her once and didn’t want to lose her again- or maybe it was to protect her and Henry from the cameras that seem to always be right outside.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’d never even given a thought to the idea that she’d be a global news story. But, apparently “girl goes missing from a cruise ship and washes up on a mysterious island in the middle of the ocean” is a story people are hungry for. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A creak on the steps that lead up to her little loft bedroom signifies that someone’s coming to see her, so she steadies herself and pulls on a tiny smile. Turning, she finds her father, a tired look in his eyes and his hair gently tousled from sleep.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He steps into her bedroom quietly, without having to say anything, and sits opposite her on the window seat. He peers outside for a minute, so she allows her gaze to drift that way, too, comfortable in the solace of knowing he’s here. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His gentle, warm hand touches her calf and he squeezes it briefly. “I was thinking about taking a drive up the coast.” Emma looks at him and finds his eyes soft. “We can hide out at Uncle Leroy’s until the…” He shakes his head, grimacing, “<em>circus</em> goes away.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They all hate it. Even their neighbors have complained. It isn’t fair that they’d decided to keep covering the story from their perch outside of their house. As if there was any story left to tell. All that was left was Emma struggling to return to normal life.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They’ll just follow us.” Emma sighs. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stares at her father, wondering if he can tell she feels like a shell of a person, or if her walls and facades were just high enough to hide behind. Of anyone, she knew he’d be able to read into her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His gentle smile is almost sorrowful. “It’s nice to dream.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When she’d told her parents that she met a <em>man</em> on an island, they’d initially been relieved. At least she hadn’t been alone and scrounging for food and habitat. She’d been fed, warm, and safe. At least, for the most part.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It had been more difficult to explain that Killian wasn’t just a man on an island. She’d expected confusion, maybe some sense of doubt or worry, but instead, they promised they wouldn’t stop looking for him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Still, she wonders if they realize how much Killian means to her. That the guilt of leaving without him weighs heavy on her breastbone, or that she isn’t sleeping with millions of what-if scenarios haunting her instead of dreams.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma follows David’s gaze back out the window, where the sun has finally pushed beyond the horizon. She glances over her shoulder when she hears Henry’s telltale stirring, and gets up before he can cry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She reaches into his newly purchased crib and smiles, settling him into her arms with a whisper, “Hi, Henry. Hi. Did you sleep well?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The doctors tell her it’s a miracle that he’s still alive and healthy after not being fed properly for so long. But she isn’t surprised. He’s a fighter, just like her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma goes to work right away, setting him on the changing table her parents had eagerly bought to resolve his smelly diaper. Once he’s changed, she grabs a bottle and looks at her father, tipping her head toward the stairs.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Time for breakfast. You coming?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiles at her thoughtfully and crosses the room, stopping short of her. “Neal’s here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods. “I know.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d stayed the night. Again. She knows because she’d had a late night feeding and found him curled up on the couch, clearly uncomfortable, but suffering through just the same.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He was worried about you, Emma,” her father explains for the millionth time, “I didn’t realize you were…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know,” Emma says again. She takes a steadying breath, pulling on another smile for him. “It’s fine. He’s… been surprisingly nice.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s true. He has been very nice. He’s eager to help with anything she needs. He’s always running errands on their behalf, making food for them, keeping nosy neighbors away from the front door… enforcing the justifiable hours that the media can stand guard past the sidewalk. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If she hadn’t already made up her mind about him, she might be persuaded to fall back in love. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma enters the kitchen to find her mother already making herself busy, multitasking with a phone in one hand and a spatula in the other. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shakes her head, scowling at whoever is on the other end of the call. “You’re not helping when you call me with pointless updates like this.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her eyes brighten once they find Emma and Henry, and a big smile grows on her lips. She mouths, “Hi,” and gestures to the pancakes on the skillet in front of her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma smiles and nods in approval of the pancakes in question, although she isn’t sure she could even try to eat. Her stomach still feels sick.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neal sits at the kitchen island, a mug of his morning coffee lifted to his lips while he scrolls through an app on his phone. He looks up at her as she prepares Henry’s bottle.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, I can hold him while you do that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s on his feet in a heartbeat, already at her side with hands held outward before she can protest, so she allows him to take the baby. Henry seems to like Neal, at least as much as he can, so once he’s in Neal’s arms, she only hesitates for a few nervous seconds before continuing her task.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How’d you sleep?” Neal wonders genuinely.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay.” Emma lies. She meets his eyes. “Sorry if we woke you up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neal frowns, shaking his head with his brow knitted. “No, no. It’s fine. Believe me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her mother heaves a sigh as she sets the phone down on the counter. “Every morning it’s the same thing. I can’t believe it. How could there be no new information? It’s been a full week! Surely there’s <em>something</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The only piece of information they’d been told was that they had dispatched a crew to check the island, and after that, it almost felt like they were forgotten.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma bites her lip when she feels it tremble, focusing on what she’s doing so much that she worries someone might think she’s being too quiet. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Maybe we should go ourselves. To the island.” Neal says. “If they can’t find anything, maybe… I don’t know, maybe Em can see something they’re not.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” her father says diplomatically. “Emma’s still recovering.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neal scoffs. “She’s not crippled, Dave.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s not mute, either.” Emma says, looking at the group. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They become quiet, her father looking especially guilty.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry, Emma. If something <em>happened</em> on the island. If...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If he’s dead, they would’ve said something.” Emma finishes his thought. She closes her eyes, breathing in. It’s a moment of clarity that she hadn’t realized she even had within her. “If we meant anything to him, he’ll find us. Let’s just… try normal life again. As much as we can.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her mother seems worried for a few seconds, but soon offers a smile and nods. “Anybody hungry for pancakes?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Storybrooke’s harbor has always been her favorite place to eat lunch on quiet afternoons. Facing the water, watching the boats drifting off in the distance, as puffy white clouds moved slowly overhead, she could always find something calming here.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sits on her favorite bench, Henry in his stroller at her side, and Neal sitting opposite. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They’d been quiet since deciding to leave the house, eager to do something other than sit idly while they waited out the media storm and the non-updates from oceans away. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Even though it’s freezing, it’s still nice to be outside. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s the first time they’ve really been alone, apart from her parents. Tension simmers between them, as if they’re supposed to talk about everything that went on. As if she needs to tell him about her change of heart with regards to their relationship. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But she really, really doesn’t want to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma breathes in the salty air and allows herself to retreat back to the island in her mind, to the cozy nights in the living room with Killian reading to her. To the last morning they’d shared, so <em>natural</em> and <em>good</em>. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’s in love with him. She thought he felt the same. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It didn’t make sense that he’d just disappear. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Beside her, Neal clears his throat softly. “Emma.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s clear to her when she looks at him that he must be nervous, his fingers dancing on top of his knee for a few seconds before he folds his hands together in his lap.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was an asshole. Our entire relationship. Hell, my entire life I’ve been an asshole.” He scoffs, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a single sigh. “When your folks told me you were missing, I… totally lost it. No sleeping. No eating. Couldn’t focus on anything. So I flew over there, just to be with them while they waited for answers.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She thinks she sees a tear in his eye. He sniffles, clearing his throat again. “We waited for almost three weeks.” He pauses, his upper row of teeth tugging at his lower lip. “I never saw them waver. I never saw them admit it was possible you were <em>gone</em>, even though that’s all anybody was saying around them.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma knew it hadn’t been easy. She knew it had been a long time. But she can see in the pure sorrow on Neal’s face just how taxing it had been.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Uh…” Neal takes another deep breath. “I guess I’m telling you all of this because losing you made me realize I <em>knew</em> how bad I was to you and I always just thought I’d get the chance to make up for it, you know? I thought I’d get the chance to be better for you. But, then...” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neal shakes his head, clearly getting upset. A tear escapes his eye and he quickly wipes it away. “I thought you were dead.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His voice is barely a whisper, spoken so quietly and with such passion that she knew nothing but the tight knot in her chest. She aches for him, and her parents, knowing that they’d been through so much. Knowing that they’d never stop looking for her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m so sorry, Emma.” Neal apologizes, honesty in the sorrowful knit of his brow. “I’m so sorry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma closes her eyes as she wraps her arms around him, holding him as close as she can on a bench. He begins to weep, his sobs wracking his body while he buries his face in her neck. She runs her fingers through his hair to soothe him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s okay.” Emma whispers. “It’s okay.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When he finally pulls away, he’s far more broken than he had been before. He’s almost a new person. “I feel so stupid, crying like that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No,” she insists, shaking her head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know you moved on.” Neal tells her, glancing briefly at the water ahead of them. “And that’s okay. We were never meant to be together.” His admission feels like a weight being lifted off of her shoulders. “I just needed you to know that I’m sorry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Feeling free, yet vulnerable, Emma studies him quietly. He distracts himself with the view in front of them, but she can tell he’s still emotional. His knee wobbles and bounces quicker with each passing second. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Gently, she rests her cheek on his shoulder, wrapping her fingers around his arm, and stares out at the water. “We can still be friends.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neal laughs softly, his breath a white cloud in the cold December air. His knee stops bouncing. For a while, he’s quiet.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>One Week Later</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a dull throbbing in his head when he wakes up. The first thing he hears is the pulse of a heart rate monitor, followed by nearby chatter.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And then he hears laughter, bubbly and infectious. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Emma. Henry. </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Slowly, his eyes open and he squints as he adjusts to the bright light that pours in from a nearby set of windows. The sterile room is small, with only a single chair accompanying the bed he lies in. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In the chair, Smee sits, snoring with his cheek pressed to his shoulder. He’s wearing a jacket as his blanket, and it appears that the man hasn’t seen civilization in a while, based on the beard he’s sporting.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His eyes fall closed again, feeling far too heavy to keep open. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>An adorable crinkle by a shining green eye. Strands of blonde caught between his fingers. A whisper of his name in his ear.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Emma. Henry.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian licks his lips and groans under his breath at the aches and pains stinging all over. He’s still drowsy, feeling heavy, as if he’s been drugged. Sitting up is a chore, but he does it anyway.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hears her voice, a whisper- maybe a memory, “Storybrooke. It’s in Maine. Can’t miss it. Can’t find it, either.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Emma. Henry. Storybrooke.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Smee,” he says, voice thick and cracking with lack of use. He clears his throat and opens his eyes once again. “Smee.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The man in the chair jostles awake, licking his lips and sitting upright with his eyes wide. “Jones. You’re awake.” Smee pulls himself to his feet, jacket discarded at his feet. “How do you feel? Any pain?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian grimaces, rubbing at his forehead, where the headache has begun to throb intensely. “I feel bloody fantastic, mate.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee hesitates, seeming to not know for sure what to say. “You took quite the beating. Um… four broken ribs and your shoulder was dislocated. You were concussed. I know it doesn’t sound all that bad, but you were…” The man frowns, pausing as he searches for the words. “You were broken.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A dislocated bone. A crack. A scream louder than any other.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Emma</em>. He needs to get to Emma.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian starts to pull at the sheets. “Where’s Emma?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You should lie down. Let a doctor come check on you before we worry about that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shakes his head. “No, I promised I’d…” He feels dizzy, so he falls back heavily against the bed, causing the frame to shake. “Where are they?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee smiles gently. He grabs something from a table beside the bed and shows it to him. A newspaper. Emma and Henry on the front page.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She had to go home. It was bordering on unsafe staying, what with all of the paparazzi and media. I couldn’t even see her once she got off of my boat. I heard that her folks wanted to stay and wait, but… the baby, he needed a little extra help from doctors and… you were nowhere to be seen.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian furrows his brow slightly. His mind feels like a fog of knowledge, some of it clearer than the rest. He can’t seem to remember what happened after Emma left. “Where was I?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You were only just found a few days ago.” Smee says, clearly holding something back. He lowers his voice, “Stuffed into a barrel.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The memories come back in almost a painful revelation. He shuts his eyes. “Bloody hell.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lucky for you, you’ve got a brilliant mind in you.” Smee says optimistically. “You’ll be fully compensated for everything. What you did out there… it was damned heroic, Jones. You’ve had your name cleared.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How do you know that?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “As soon as they found you, I didn’t leave your side.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The man, who Killian had never seen as anything but his means for food and materials, suddenly felt more to him like a friend than he’d ever experienced before. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With a shy little blush, Smee adds, “You’ve had a lot of visitors.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian looked to the newspaper again, finding the image of Emma holding Henry close to her chest. He desperately needs to get to her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee must notice his attention is strained, because he reaches for the paper. “Why don’t you lie down? I can get a doctor to check on you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I need to get to Emma.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You will.” Smee promises. “Just as soon as you’re well enough to leave the hospital.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fifteen</p>

<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <strong>Two Weeks Later</strong>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>The media had finally decided the story was over just a few days before Christmas, probably because they’d rather spend their holiday with their own families rather than staring at the Nolan house all day with no updates to her story.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>And somehow, after that, it’s <em>normal</em> again. Well, as normal as it can be.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>It’s not easy to play the part she’d once performed so easily just a few months ago. For better or worse, the time she’d spent on the island has changed her.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Without any phone calls or messages sent from across the ocean, Emma feels stagnant. If she went back for him, there would be no guarantees of leads or direction. Leaving might even make it harder for Killian to find her.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ruby and Belle, two of her closest friends, come to the house one morning and practically drag her out the front door to take her Christmas present shopping.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So when will you tell us about what happened?” Ruby wonders, peering over at her from the driver's seat of Emma’s beat up VW Bug.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma rolls her eyes. “I’ve already told you guys everything. I fell into the ocean and washed up on the shore of a tiny island somewhere.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, and there was a hot lighthouse keeper. What’s he like? <em>Killian Jones.</em>”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Belle gasps from the backseat. “Ruby! Be kind.” The librarian turns, “Sorry, Emma. How about we talk about something else?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Their favorite place to shop for odds and ends is on Main Street, so that’s where they find themselves, baskets in their arms while they stroll through the aisles chatting and laughing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s easier to forget the sadness she feels in the back of her mind while instead thinking about what gifts make sense for her parents, or while she’s trying to keep track of the latest Ruby drama.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, Emma, Belle has a boyfriend.” Ruby suddenly announces, shaking her head in surprise. “I totally forgot to tell you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma looks at Belle, smirking slightly. “You <em>do</em>?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Belle wears a bright red blush, covering her face with the mittens that she holds in her hands. “I do.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She and Ruby share a laugh at Belle’s shyness over the fact that she’s in a relationship.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma reaches out to touch Belle’s arm, gently assuring her that she cares. “Who is it?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Belle hesitates, looking between Ruby and Emma. She lowers her voice slightly, as if she’s going to be overheard. “Will. You can’t tell anyone. It’s so new, Emma.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She has to laugh again. “Will Scarlet?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Belle gasps. “Don’t laugh! I wouldn’t laugh if one of you were seeing someone.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The brooding sailor and the hopeless romantic librarian.” Ruby sighs wistfully. She plucks something off of a nearby shelf to add to her basket. “They’re really cute, though, Em. After Christmas, we should get together for dinner so we can interrogate him.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods. “Sure.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t see why you’d need to,” Belle rolls her eyes. “You both know him.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But we <em>have</em> to. It's our job!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It always happens like this. In the middle of mundane conversation, a pit sinks to the pit of her stomach and she loses all of the joy she may or may not have had before.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Belle must notice, because she holds Emma’s arm, pressing her hand and chin against Emma’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma manages a smile. “I’m fine… I just think I should get going.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Emma…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, Emma, stay.” Ruby begs, pouting her lower lip. “We can talk about literally anything else. Like, okay,” She exchanges a wide-eyed look with Belle. “Last week I was with my Granny and she said there’s no reason for us to keep making the apple crisp? What’s that about?” Her voice lowers, “People still order apple crisp.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Belle’s gaze follows Emma, a small worried frown on her lips. “Why don’t we look for something to give Killian for Christmas?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Somehow, the thought doesn’t hit her as hard as it could. In fact, she thinks it would be good to buy him a present.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Belle thoughtfully turns to the shelves nearby. “How does he feel about candy canes? This store seems to have an endless supply.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They all laugh briefly. Emma tucks her hair behind her ears, thoughtful. “Let’s see if they have any journals.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s started thinking about fleeing the hospital in the middle of the night.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Everyday, it’s the same thing. He sleeps, he eats, a nurse comes and chastises him for trying to stand on his own. Rinse and repeat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His doctor says he has to stay put for another week, but the newspaper Smee brings him claims that it’s almost Christmas, and he can’t possibly spend Christmas wearing a paper-thin gown and a pair of socks from the lost and found.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Not when he could be with Emma. Not when she’s out there wondering if he’s even alive.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Smee, I need to get out of here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It isn’t the first time he’s suggested an escape, so Smee just glances at him briefly while he fiddles with the remote to the television that hangs on the wall ahead of them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Will you give me my clothes at least? This hospital gown is starting to chafe.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee sighs, frustrated with the remote control, and drops it on the table. He looks at Killian again. “What?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian groans. “If I could hit you, I would. You’re useless.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His only friend pivots his chair toward him and folds his hands together. “How about we have a chat?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“About what?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee shrugs. “Do you think you’ll go live in America with Emma once you’re out of the hospital?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s the hope.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee hums thoughtfully. “I think it would be worth looking for her online… maybe we could see if we can find a friend…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Smee, I need to get to her in person.” Killian interrupts Smee’s train of thought. “I can’t… I’m exhausted of this. I need to be with her.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee thoughtfully stares at him. Then, he reaches for his bag, digging into it to remove a slip of paper. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know it isn’t much, but a friend of mine found an address online. It might be Emma’s...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sitting upright, Killian’s brow dips as his eyes narrow. “Hold on. You’ve had an address this whole time?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee stares at him blankly. “You’ve been bedridden.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He thinks about his options very, very briefly, before he determinedly pushes back the sheets and forces himself to sit on the edge of the bed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian grits his teeth. It’s never easy getting out of bed merely to visit the restroom, but he can’t force himself to stay another minute with Smee suffocating him to death with his crossword puzzles and mid-afternoon variety shows.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With teeth still gritted, he yanks the IV out of his arm, much to Smee’s alarm. “Oh! Please, don’t do what I think you’re doing. Please stay in bed. <em>Please</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His stocking feet hit the cold floor with a grimace. He extends an arm to Smee. “Hand me my clothes.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee stares at him, not moving. Killian stares back, lifting a daring eyebrow. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Now, Smee.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The man jostles into action, grabbing his folded clothes from the bag he’d kept at his side. Killian sheds the hospital gown and takes each article as quickly as Smee passes them over.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s not easy getting into the shirt, which really should be a warning sign that pulling on pants will be impossible, but he dives into the task headfirst anyway.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He does it for Emma. He does it for Henry. He does it for sake of his own sanity.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After he dresses, he finds his breathing labored and he aches in ways he shouldn’t, but he looks at Smee again anyway. “The address.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee comes closer to him, paper in hand. He hesitates. “I can’t give it to you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian begins to cradle the pain in his ribs, but refuses to slow down. “Smee. I’m not asking.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He glares at the man until Smee caves, slouching his shoulders as he passes him the paper. “How are you going to get there? Look at you. You don’t even have any shoes!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then thank you for offering yours. Bloody kind of you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smee gives him a weary look, but kicks off his own boots to offer them to Killian. For someone trying to keep him from leaving, Smee isn’t exactly doing a good job.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Holding his head up high, Killian knows the only way he’ll be able to get past the nurses and doctors is if he does so quickly and with a level head. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He takes a deep breath and takes one step forward, already regretting the decision to wear a size of shoe too small for his feet. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m only going to ask you once more to stay. Please. You can’t make the trip like this alone.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian stares at Smee. Smee stares back at him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Almost as if Smee reads Killian’s mind, his shoulders fall and he sighs. “I’ll collect my things.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It has been four weeks. Four weeks since she’d last seen Killian. Four weeks since she’d last kissed him. Four weeks since she asked him to come back to her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was a voice in her mind that whispered darkly to her sometimes. Maybe he stayed on purpose. Maybe he didn’t actually want to leave. Maybe he hadn’t actually changed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maybe everything she thought she’d experienced on a mysterious island in the middle of the ocean was in her head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma does her best to shed these thoughts, but sometimes, she clings to them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She drives to the diner, where she’d told Mary Margaret they could meet for lunch, and sits parked in front of the building for far too long.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her phone buzzes twice.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mom: <em>Henry and I are at the diner!</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mom: <em>Come whenever you’re ready (smiling emoji)</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Deciding she should go inside, Emma sighs deeply and unbuckles her seatbelt. Making life <em>normal</em> again felt wrong without Killian here.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sits beside her mother at the diner, leaving room for David to join opposite them in a little while. Henry happily bounces in Mary Margaret’s arms, giggling when Emma leans in and kisses his cheek. “Hi, baby.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her mother smiles at her. “I think he’s going to start standing on his own soon.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah?” Emma asks, excited. Henry squirms from Mary Margaret and into Emma’s arms. She sighs happily, pressing her cheek into his baby soft curls. “I’ll miss him being this small, though.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mary Margaret chuckles. “We all will.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All too easily, Emma’s delight with being with her family fades and she finds herself taking a breath just to hold it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If we knew where he was, I would tell you to go find him.” Mary Margaret says, seeming to know exactly where her mind went.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods. “Yeah.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She pauses, a pest of a thought gnawing at her, begging to be shared. Emma fights with that impulse for a few seconds. Mary Margaret didn’t need to know the very worst of her inner thoughts.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And yet, the thought gnaws. Emma peers at her mother, the ever kind and compassionate source of hope and love in her life.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’s on your mind, honey?” Her voice is without meaning harm or pity. It hardly ever is.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Hesitating just a few seconds more, Emma adjusts herself in the booth so she can face her mother more.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Up until the last few days, he still wanted to stay on the island, and I don’t know if he really meant what he said. How am I supposed to know for sure? I mean, it isn’t like we’d known each other for a long time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her mother frowns. “Emma, you can’t think like this.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s just being honest.” She sighs. “If he deep down had any doubts… maybe he took the easy out where he could and that’s why we haven’t heard from him.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her mother, who has always been filled to the brim with fairytales and happy endings, reaches for Emma’s hand and shakes her head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You have to have hope, Emma. Without it, there’s no chance for a happy ending. Do you think we ever gave up hope we’d find you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guilt hits her in a hard pang. She swallows thickly. “No. Of course not.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her mother tilts her head to the side, smiling gently. “Then why should you give up on Killian?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Abruptly, Emma’s phone buzzes on the table and her eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, shoot. I have to take this outside. It’s the doctor.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Doctors visits had become a weekly routine. Between herself and Henry, the tests and exams seemed endless, although necessary to make sure they were alright after everything they’d been through.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her mom takes Henry as Emma answers the phone, “Hello?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi, Emma, it’s Doctor Whale’s office. I’m Nurse Bell calling about your blood test results.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma hums as she steps out the diner’s front door, the bell tinkling in her wake. Taking the steps down to the snowy patio quickly, she isn’t paying any attention when she runs straight into another person.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her phone almost falls from her hand when she staggers after the impact. Before her stands her father, who laughs, apologetic. He steadies her with his hands on each of her arms.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, geez. Sorry, Sweetie.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She laughs in response, using his shoulder as a balance while she pulls herself back together. “It’s okay. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He gently reaches up to adjust her hat on her head. “There you go.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma smiles in thanks, softening a little at the gentleness of the interaction. “Mom and Henry are in our favorite booth.” She holds up her phone. “I have to take this. Be right in.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David nods in understanding and Emma quickly pulls her phone back to her ear. “So sorry about that. I just... had a run-in with someone.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The nurse laughs. “I heard. Do you want to hear your results over the phone or would you rather come into the office?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma shakes her head. There’s no need to visit the doctor again if it was just a routine blood test. “I’ll take them now, if that’s possible.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nurse Bell pauses. “Okay, well… everything looks good. Um… well, except…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her heart skips an anxious beat. “What is it?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, congratulations are in order, Emma,” the nurse says with a smile she can hear even on the phone, “you’re pregnant.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All of the blood completely drains from her face and she finds herself standing so still, so quiet, that she almost forgets that she’s on the phone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her voice breaks when she finally squeaks out, “<em>What</em>?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The nurse rattles off a bunch of information, but Emma isn’t listening.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Pregnant</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>How the hell did <em>this</em> happen?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Of course, she <em>knows</em> how. She just doesn’t... know <em>how</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Somehow, she ends the call and finds the will within herself to lift her feet, though her mind races with thoughts of Killian.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His eyes, so blue. Would their child have blue eyes too?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Once she stands inside Granny’s Diner, she casts her gaze onto her parents and Henry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry is going to be a big brother.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’s going to have a baby.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And Killian is still missing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Every excuse she’d made up for not going to look for him now seems so insignificant. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that they were meant to be together, but now she actually felt it in her bones.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shouldn’t have waited for so long to go… maybe she shouldn’t have even left so quickly after reuniting with her parents. But staying here now, with the knowledge that both of her children could be without their father… it felt wrong in the worst way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guilt floods her mind, squashing the darkness that had been bothering her all day with a bitter flavor. She almost allows it to overwhelm her, to anchor her to the premise it feeds her, but somewhere deep down, hope stirs within.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Hope that this is only a hiccup, that she <em>would</em> find him, and they <em>would</em> be together again. No matter where, or when, or how, Emma would see Killian again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When she comes back to the table in the back corner of the diner, she sits beside her mom, who immediately turns to her with worry knitting her brow.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’s wrong?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma’s mouth opens, words refusing to form on her tongue. She shakes her head slowly. “I’m going to find Killian. I should get on a plane tonight.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mary Margaret looks across the table at David, as if she needs help wrangling Emma in, but her father nods, a kind smile on his face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Whatever you need to do. Let’s go. I’m with you, Emma.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sixteen</p>
<p>
  <strong>Christmas Eve</strong>
</p>
<p>Killian somehow finds himself more nervous than Smee is as they drive away from the Portland airport on their way to Storybrooke.</p>
<p>Smee mutters to himself, driving roughly ten under the speed limit because he's nervous being on American roads. The effort is costing them time, but Killian knows it wouldn't do him any good to ask Smee to push any harder than he is. The man had practically had a breakdown on the plane before they took off.</p>
<p>"Do you think Emma will be there?" Killian asks.</p>
<p>The question has plagued him for practically the entire trip. While it makes sense that she would be home, in Storybrooke, another part of him knows that this is an uncertain mission. She might be somewhere else entirely.</p>
<p>"Well," Smee replies thoughtfully, "it's Christmas Eve. I would think she'd be home. Wouldn't you?"</p>
<p>Killian takes a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He holds in his hand the address Smee had been hiding from him, chicken scratch on a bright yellow post-it note.</p>
<p>He hasn't given much thought to what his new life would look like. Maybe it's for the best that he hasn't been able to. When he makes it to Storybrooke, and he's reunited with Emma and Henry, he imagines it will all fall into place.</p>
<p>Hopefully, that would happen sooner rather than later.</p>
<p>"I don't know."</p>
<p>Smee glances over at him very briefly a few times. "If she isn't, we'll just keep looking. I'm sure there will at least be someone who might know something… we'll follow the trail until you're with her again. I know how much she means to you."</p>
<p>Killian looks out his window, teeth digging into his upper lip. "But does she know?"</p>
<p>Smee doesn't have an answer for him, but Killian doesn't need one.</p>
<p>His anxiety about seeing Emma again is something he hopes is without basis. They'd spent far too much time apart, but no one was to blame for that.</p>
<p>There would never have been a way Emma could have found him, unless she was able to get in touch with Smee. Smee, who still only uses a landline because he worries the cell phone will damage his brain cells- or something like that.</p>
<p>It would have been impossible. Or, at least, very nearly impossible.</p>
<p>Sighing, Killian stretches his legs out as much as he can in the cramped front seat. He closes his eyes, focusing on something hopeful: soon, he'll be with Emma and Henry again.</p>
<p>"Do you feel alright? Do you need your medicine?"</p>
<p>"No, I feel fine." Killian opens his eyes, looking at Smee. "Thank you. You didn't have to stick with me all that time, and coming to America on an uncertain quest…"</p>
<p>Smee smiles. "That's what friends are for."</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>Storybrooke is not on the map that they'd found at the airport. It's not even on the map at the first few visitor's centers they stop at.</p>
<p>Thankfully, they'd been able to find someone at a gas station who gave them a general direction to move towards. After that, it had been a game of watching the road signs until they finally spotted one that claimed Storybrooke was twenty miles away.</p>
<p>The town is sleepy. Covered in fresh snowfall, the evening sun has colored the skies a soft orange and pink. The buildings lining Main Street sit idle, with hardly anybody moving to and fro. It's calm and quiet, a solace he hadn't thought he'd find.</p>
<p>"Where should we go first, do you think?" Smee asks nervously. "Is that a diner up ahead?"</p>
<p>Killian spots the neon sign that reads "Granny's Diner" shining at them from the side of the road as if it's an oasis in the desert.</p>
<p>"I know we should probably go to the address there, but, I'm starving, Jones."</p>
<p>Killian nods. "Aye. Let's pull off for a meal. Perhaps while we're there we can ask for directions. I think I remember Emma saying this was her favorite place to eat."</p>
<p>Smee hums thoughtfully. He pulls into a parking spot across the street from the establishment and Killian stares out at it, nervousness tickling at his belly.</p>
<p>"You alright?"</p>
<p>He turns to his friend, nodding. "Aye. Just… <em>really</em> hoping she's in town."</p>
<p>Smee offers him a gentle smile. "Like I said before. We'll find her, even if this is just a stop along the way."</p>
<p>Killian nods. "Thanks, Smee."</p>
<p>Even with Smee's support, Killian hesitates. He finds himself nervous to leave the car, to step into the future and his new life.</p>
<p>"I would bet she's here." Smee says, almost like he's talking to himself. "I don't get the feeling that she'd want to stray… you know, staying put so it's easy for you to find them." His friend smiles. "C'mon. Let's go get something to eat. We can worry about finding Emma after. One step at a time, yeah?"</p>
<p>Smee pats him gently on the arm and then turns the car off. The immediate loss of heat from the air vents forces him to join Smee in opening his door.</p>
<p>It takes a minute to climb out of the car, and when he does, he leans back against it, chest tight as he catches his breath.</p>
<p>The air is frigid, but being in Storybrooke feels the opposite.</p>
<p>He'd heard Emma tell stories about this place for weeks. The aged brick of the buildings… the bare trees lining the streets… the banners on the light posts… it's all as she'd described.</p>
<p>As he turns his attention to a nearby car with a Storybrooke bumper sticker, Smee comes alongside him, a wry smirk on his face.</p>
<p>"What's that look for?"</p>
<p>His friend nudges his head toward the diner without saying a word.</p>
<p>Killian follows Smee's gesture and finds himself staring directly inside the building through the glass door at someone so familiar that it makes his heart drop directly into his belly.</p>
<p><em>Emma</em>.</p>
<p>He's fast on his feet, practically running across the street toward the diner. Suddenly, every ache and pain he'd been feeling falls away. All he sees and knows is <em>Emma</em>.</p>
<p>She opens the door, a bell tinkling in her wake, and she doesn't look up, typing something into her phone. He stops, wanting her to notice him, but she crashes straight into him instead.</p>
<p>"Oh!" She gasps, almost slipping as she struggles to keep her balance. She catches onto his arms and grips tightly. "Sorry. That's the second time that's happened to me in under an hour, if you can believe it."</p>
<p>And she finally meets his eyes.</p>
<p>In a heartbeat, everything changes.</p>
<p>She shakes her head slowly in disbelief. "<em>Killian</em>."</p>
<p>Emma wraps her arms around him, holding him tightly. He grunts slightly at the brute impact, but returns the hug, eyes squeezed shut.</p>
<p>"Emma. <em>Emma</em>." Killian catches his breath, his grip on her tightening. "I'm sorry it took so long."</p>
<p>She threads her fingers into his hair for a few seconds before pulling away to look at his face, thoroughly this time, which gives him the chance to, in desperation, study everything about her.</p>
<p>It's only been a month, but it feels like it's been an eternity.</p>
<p>Her hair curls in waves down her shoulders, the tops of her ears covered by her beanie hat, and she looks exactly as he remembers, though this time, she's far less upset.</p>
<p>They laugh, still holding onto each other, and Emma shakes her head. "I can't believe it. You're here!"</p>
<p>"Aye, love."</p>
<p>God, he loves her.</p>
<p>He opens his mouth to say as much, but she cuts him off with her lips on his, just as desperate and passionate as it had been the last time they'd kissed. This time, though, he holds on tighter knowing that they'd never need another tearful goodbye kiss.</p>
<p>When she pulls away, he leans into her, swaying slightly at the intensity of being here with her. He'd dreamed of this moment dozens of times, but never once did he think that it would feel like he could fly.</p>
<p>"I love you." Emma says with absolutely no hesitation.</p>
<p>His heart skips a heavy beat. Killian can't help but smile when he meets her eyes again. "I love you too."</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>Selfishly, Emma tells Killian to wait out by the dock for her so she can get some time with him before introducing him to her parents, who still sit at their table at Granny's finishing up their meal.</p>
<p>With Henry still in her lap, Mary Margaret meets Emma's eyes first thanks to a little wiggle Henry gives at the sight of her.</p>
<p>"I thought you were going back to the house."</p>
<p>For the life of her, Emma can't wipe the dumb grin she has on her face. Killian is here. He's here and everything is changed, for the better. She feels like she can see clearly for the first time in a long time, no longer burdened with grief or loss.</p>
<p>"I… was thinking I could take Henry from you. Maybe take a quick walk."</p>
<p>Her mother narrows her eyes. Clearly, she's being far too obvious that everything is more than okay again.</p>
<p>"Okay…"</p>
<p>She collects Henry, taking time to dress him to go out into the cold.</p>
<p>"Are you sure you're alright, honey?" David asks. "Just a few minutes ago you were ready to drive up to the airport and leave town."</p>
<p>Emma peers up at her father, nodding. "Yeah. I'm fine." She looks at her mom, who still seems unconvinced. "Seriously. I'm fine."</p>
<p>Mary Margaret grabs her tea and has a sip. Then, as Emma puts Henry in his stroller, she says, "You know… there's a nice view outside from here."</p>
<p>Emma hums, unwilling to budge on telling them that Killian's currently in Storybrooke until they've had a few minutes to themselves. There's a lot that they need to talk about.</p>
<p>"Yeah. It's pretty out there."</p>
<p>Her mother hums back at her. "One might say it's mistletoe weather."</p>
<p>David seems confused, tilting his head at his wife. "What…"</p>
<p>"I'll meet you guys back at the house, okay?" Emma smiles at them both, trying to move as quickly as she can so she doesn't leave Killian out in the cold by himself for much longer.</p>
<p>The minute Emma can see Killian sitting in her favorite spot, Henry giggles as if he can recognize him.</p>
<p>"Henry!" Killian grins, pivoting with his arms held outward.</p>
<p>Emma smiles happily when the two embrace, Henry squishing Killian's face between his two hands so he can give him sloppy baby kisses.</p>
<p>"Oh, thank you. I've missed this." Killian laughs, gently moving Henry away from his face to instead sit in his lap.</p>
<p>He meets Emma's eyes briefly and she sits down beside him. He extends his arm to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.</p>
<p>"I would've come after you right away, but..."</p>
<p>She squeezes his hand where it rests over Henry's belly. There will be time for explaining later. Right now, she just needs him to know that she's here for him.</p>
<p>"It's okay. You're here now."</p>
<p>They sit in silence, watching the boats on the water, and Killian sighs, sitting upright. Emma joins him, turning so she can see him again.</p>
<p>There are so many things she wants to ask him. Stories she wants to hear. People he needs to meet, and places he needs to go. But she needs one answer more than the rest.</p>
<p>"Are you going to stay with us?"</p>
<p>Killian raises an eyebrow, laughing like she's crazy. "Where else would I go, darling?"</p>
<p>Emma searches his eyes, not feeling soothed yet. "The island was your home. You built it up with your brother…"</p>
<p>She doesn't mention the losses of Milah or their child, knowing that their graves are on the island, too.</p>
<p>Suddenly, all she feels is guilt. He shouldn't have had to follow her here.</p>
<p>The weeks she'd spent aching and yearning for him to come here to her were so <em>selfish</em>. If anything, she should've poured more time into finding <em>him</em>, in being there for <em>him</em>, and staying by his side no matter what.</p>
<p>Especially now, with the knowledge that their lives are going to be entwined in such a powerful way, it feels as if she's failed him. Emma isn't sure how she wants to tell him about the baby, but she can't do it yet. Not until things slow down again.</p>
<p>"You didn't have to come here." Emma whispers. She closes her eyes with remorse and pulls away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you if you weren't ready to leave."</p>
<p>Maybe it's her past abandonments coming back to give her one last swift kick to the gut, but she has a hard time believing that he'd actually be here because of her. That he'd <em>want</em> to be with her so much that he'd leave his entire world behind to live in hers.</p>
<p>"Emma." Killian reaches for her hand again, warmly interlocking their fingers. "I'm not supposed to be here right now. I was concussed. I have four broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. I have an almost upsetting smattering of other smaller injuries."</p>
<p>The bruised and healing features of his face are more pronounced in the silence that follows. He'd been through hell. This much is clear.</p>
<p>"I wasn't pushed to leave," he says, holding her gaze intentionally. "I very much want to be here. So much so that I dragged Smee across the ocean so that I could be with you for Christmas day."</p>
<p>The weight falls off of her shoulders and she closes her eyes in relief.</p>
<p>"Smee is terrified of flying, by the way. That was... fun."</p>
<p>She can't help but laugh at the tone of his voice.</p>
<p>They both turn their attention to Henry. He plays with Killian's zipper, content in his lap, happily babbling with his head tipped upward.</p>
<p>It hits her then that this is her family. No matter what happened, if she'd gone after him or not, if he'd stayed on the island or not, they would always be a family.</p>
<p>Killian takes a moment to stare at her. "You were right. I didn't want anything to interrupt my life… but I needed you to." Her breath catches at the honesty of his words. "You and Henry are my home. Don't doubt that, Emma."</p>
<p>She sighs and slides closer to him on the bench, her cheek finding his shoulder blade. He smells just like she remembers. And he's <em>oh</em> so warm.</p>
<p>Emma can't help but think ahead of what's still to come. He has to meet her parents, her friends… find a job here in town. And she still has to tell him about the island's parting gift to them: a baby.</p>
<p>There's one thing she knows he definitely has to do today, and it's far and away the most terrifying of everything else.</p>
<p>"Are you ready to meet my parents?"</p>
<p>When she pulls away from him, there's something anxious she finds in his gaze.</p>
<p>"I'm nervous about how they'll look at me. I'm not a hero by any means. You know that better than most."</p>
<p>Emma frowns, tilting her head to the side a little. "You are a hero, though, Killian. Look at what you did to protect us."</p>
<p>He clenches his jaw and adjusts his grasp on Henry. The baby starts to cry, probably getting a little too cold, so Emma takes him from Killian and settles him in the stroller.</p>
<p>"He's cold," Emma explains. She starts to feel it herself, the cold air nipping at her cheeks and nose. A chill runs through her body. "Mom and Dad are at the diner. We can go there, or we could go home. You'll have to meet them either way, though. I don't think I can hide you from them forever."</p>
<p>Killian stands, joining her. He seems hesitant, maybe a bit bashful, tucking his hand and blunt wrist into his jacket pockets. "Let's go meet them at the diner. I'm hungry."</p>
<p>Emma nods, smiling at him. "I'll protect you if they make it too weird."</p>
<p>He chuckles and plants a kiss to her cheek. "Thanks, love."</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>Walking with Emma and Henry back up the sidewalk toward the diner again, Killian feels anxious.</p>
<p>It's different, being in the place she'd spoken so fondly about, about to meet the people she'd longed for the most during her time with him on the island. He imagines she's told them about him, but isn't sure what exactly was shared.</p>
<p>"Do they know that we…"</p>
<p>Emma meets his eyes, laughing a little. "Yeah. Um… I told them we're together." She pauses. "But I… it was only a few days there at the end, so maybe we can back off on it until we're settled in more and can be serious?"</p>
<p>Killian can't help but smile wryly. "Well, darling, I don't usually tell people I love them if I don't intend to be serious about it."</p>
<p>Her answering blush is sweet.</p>
<p>"I do, you know," he adds, "I do love you."</p>
<p>They slow to a stop just outside of Granny's Diner, Emma turning to him with her pretty green eyes sparkling ever so slightly. She presses her palm against his chest and pushes up onto her toes to kiss him, ever so chaste.</p>
<p>"I love you too." Emma turns toward the diner, taking a steadying breath. "Okay. Let's do this."</p>
<p>The bell above the door tinkles when they open it, and once they're inside, he's brought back to his childhood, when he and Liam would venture out to a corner cafe. The smells of coffee and grease, mixed with the fresher Christmas scents, like vanilla and peppermint, fill his nostrils. Christmas music plays over the radio speakers.</p>
<p>The diner isn't very full. A waitress at the bar cleans while a few patrons talk in quiet tones scattered throughout the small space.</p>
<p>Emma leads him to the back of the room, to a booth in the back corner. He's surprised to find a familiar face in Smee, who chews eagerly on a cheeseburger beside a stranger.</p>
<p>The stranger, a woman with dark black hair and bright eyes, seems to notice him first, a smile filling her lips in the kindest way.</p>
<p>Emma pushes Henry into a position where he can see the people at the table. "So… um… I guess you already know."</p>
<p>The man sitting opposite the pretty dark haired woman perks up, turning to look at Killian without saying anything.</p>
<p>Emma tilts her head, smiling at Smee. "Hi again, Smee."</p>
<p>"Miss Emma. It's nice to see you."</p>
<p>Emma takes a breath. "Mom, Dad, this is Killian."</p>
<p>Emma's mother immediately gasps excitedly and pushes out of the booth, clamoring to get her arms around him as quickly as possible. He can't help but laugh at the gesture, finding the woman as endearing as anyone he's ever met.</p>
<p>"It's so nice to finally meet you!" She pulls away from him, meeting his eyes with intention, her smile wide. She has kindness in her eyes. "I'm Mary Margaret, Emma's mom. And this handsome charmer is my husband, David."</p>
<p>Mary Margaret turns, gesturing to the man who now stands beside them. David, much like his wife, smiles at him with kindness in his eyes. He holds out a hand to shake and Killian obliges.</p>
<p>"It's good to meet you. We can't thank you enough for being there for Emma and Henry."</p>
<p>Killian shakes his head. "It was a privilege they found me when they did."</p>
<p>David hums. He pulls his hand away and gestures to the booth. "Sit. Are you hungry?"</p>
<p>"Actually, I am. I'd like to eat if it's not any trouble."</p>
<p>"None at all." Mary Margaret insists. She's off in a flash, going to get something from the waitress at the bar.</p>
<p>He and Emma sit together, Emma having grabbed Henry again from the stroller. David slides in opposite of them, next to Smee.</p>
<p>"They flew in just a few hours ago," Emma shares with her father.</p>
<p>"Portland?" he asks, seeming genuinely curious.</p>
<p>"Aye. Yeah. It was an interesting trip."</p>
<p>Mary Margaret arrives at the table then, handing him a menu. "Here you go. Granny said she'll be out in a few minutes to get your order."</p>
<p>"Much obliged." Killian smiles. He sets about studying the menu, nervous to be sitting in silence with Emma's parents.</p>
<p>"You're here in time for Christmas!" Mary Margaret says happily. "That's wonderful. It's the best holiday of the year. We have a lot of traditions we can share with you."</p>
<p>"Oh, Mom," Emma speaks up before Killian can say anything. "Can you tell your cousins to come some other day this week? I don't think we should have a crazy full house this year."</p>
<p>Mary Margaret's eyes widen. "<em>Oh</em>. Yes, of course. I'll send them a message right now."</p>
<p>"Most of the presents are for Henry," David says. "Just preparing you, Emma."</p>
<p>Killian stares at Henry, the little boy happy to play with a little noise-making toy that he shakes. His heart squeezes fondly, joyful that he's able to be here with them again.</p>
<p>Emma laughs. "I know. Henry deserves it. It's his first Christmas."</p>
<p>The light conversation continues for a while. It's easy to talk about Henry and about the weather, or about the best things to order off of the menu. But that's not what Killian finds himself the most nervous about.</p>
<p>Once he places his order with Granny, he keeps his left wrist and right hand beneath the table, anxious to show his blunted wrist off too much to Emma's parents. The hook had been taken from him, and the hospital had tried to get him fitted with a mechanical hand, but he hadn't wanted it.</p>
<p>"So, what happened all these weeks, Killian?" David asks. "Emma told us there were pirates."</p>
<p>He hesitates. This is what he'd been nervous about. <em>This</em>, and sharing <em>why</em> he wanted to be on an island by himself.</p>
<p>"They took me," Killian admits, looking at Smee because he's really the only one who truly knows what happened. "Held me hostage. I'm sure you can guess that they beat me, by the look of me."</p>
<p>He feels Emma's hand on his arm beneath the table. Looking over at her and Henry, he takes a breath.</p>
<p>"I only survived because I kept thinking about how I needed to get back to them."</p>
<p>Emma smiles ever so slightly. He imagines that hearing about what he'd been through isn't the most pleasant thing, so he decides to keep his answer at that.</p>
<p>He turns back to her parents and adds, "I don't know what Emma told you about me and my time as the lighthouse keeper, but, I'll just be honest with you and say that it was a hard time in my life and I wanted to be alone on that island. And then, there was Henry, and there was Emma, and suddenly, everything I thought I wanted was changed."</p>
<p>Mary Margaret gives him the most gentle smile. "It seems you were meant to find each other."</p>
<p>Emma rubs Killian's arm and he looks at her. She's so pretty. He loves her so much.</p>
<p>"So much happened to get you there at exactly the right time," Mary Margaret says wistfully. "It's kind of amazing, isn't it, David? We almost didn't go on that trip."</p>
<p>"I know." David nods in agreement. For whatever reason, Emma's father seems to be a little wary of him, even though he's put it all out on the table for them. "So you're in Storybrooke now. What are your plans?"</p>
<p>"Dad…"</p>
<p>"What? It's a fair question."</p>
<p>"Killian's had a long day."</p>
<p>"It's alright, love," Killian smiles at Emma. Turning to David, he thoughtfully considers his next words. "I'm planning on taking it one day at a time, but I thought I'd get a job in town."</p>
<p>"And how do Emma and Henry factor in?"</p>
<p>"Dad. Honestly." Emma shakes her head in disapproval. "How about we let him settle into his new life here and once we know what's going on, we'll let you know?"</p>
<p>David sighs. "I just want to know that you're not here for the wrong reasons."</p>
<p>"I assure you, I'm not." Killian promises.</p>
<p>The silence is almost deafening. Smee perks up, having cleaned his plate.</p>
<p>"Would you folks happen to have a spare bedroom or two?" Smee wonders. "I hate to ask, but I spent quite a bit of money getting here, so..."</p>
<p>"Oh, of course you can stay with us. Both of you." Mary Margaret smiles, looking between him and Smee. "We have a guest bedroom and a pullout couch."</p>
<p>Smee grins. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Nolan. I promise I won't stay long. Can't say the same for Jones, though."</p>
<p>Killian takes a deep breath, looking at Emma. Henry has captured her attention, having curled his fingers into her hair. Laughing, she meets Killian's gaze after a second of detangling his fingers.</p>
<p>He'd kiss her smile, but doesn't want to embarrass her in front of her parents. After all, they're still trying to figure this whole thing out.</p>
<p>"How long are you staying?" she wonders, clearly teasing.</p>
<p>Sighing playfully, he shakes his head. "I don't know. I was thinking… maybe forever?"</p>
<p>Emma grins at that. "Good."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi friends! This is the final chapter! Thank you so much for all of your support. I’ve truly enjoyed reading all of your reactions as you’ve re-read or read this story for the very first time. Please raise your hand if you’re interested in an epilogue! I have one written but I’m not 100% on it just yet. Anyway, love you! Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Seventeen</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Top to bottom, the Nolan house is full of the Christmas spirit. They have a tree in their living room, brightly lit with shining ornaments and white bulbs. There are red and green pillows on the furniture and special decorations on every surface available. It smells like gingerbread and peppermint.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Emma’s mother makes Killian a bed in their living room, giving Smee the guest bedroom, but once the lights go out, he climbs up the steps to the upstairs and crawls into bed beside Emma, much to her delight.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Her bedroom is small, but it does its job. Her queen sized bed is covered in blankets, seated on the opposite end of the room from Henry’s crib. The boy rests peaceful, something he’s sure has been a relief to Emma. </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her eyes brighten and she beams at him. “Hi.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She kisses him softly. To be with her again feels surreal, so he’s basked in every second, trying to memorize the way she stares back at him in the quiet moments, the timbre of her laughter when he teases her, the gentleness of her fingertips when she’s finding his, and the way she sighs just a little each time they kiss.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After she pulls away, he brings her fingers to his lips and kisses her knuckles, content in the warmth of her bed and their closeness. It’s been far too long and he’s missed her dearly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Even though they haven’t been together for long, it feels to him as if he’s known her for a long time. It’s funny, what he’s missed about her includes all of her frustration and annoyance with him and his behavior. Has it always been love?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What happened to you?” she whispers, rubbing her thumb over the apple of his cheek. “Tell me the whole story.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He winces, hesitant. “I don’t know if you want to hear that right now… we should be celebrating being together again. Trying to figure out what life means now that we’re here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know… but…” Emma stares at him quietly. “I want to know. Tell me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sighing heavily, he inches closer to her under the piles of warm blankets, resting his palm against the mattress between them. He focuses on his hand, thinking back to that day, where he stood on the beach watching her leave on a boat headed to the mainland.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They came to the island. Outnumbered me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The air on board their ship had smelled thick of smoke, alcohol, and grime. The men had thick accents, but spoke English, and had wasted no time getting to business.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma’s fingers trace lines over the healing bruises on his face, tender and worried.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They wanted to use me as leverage, but I don’t think they knew who I was. Not really. I think they thought, perhaps, I was more important to the government.” He meets her eyes. “They were talking about a nearby cruise ship. Thinking about commandeering it. I’m not sure how, after days of misery, I was able to send an S.O.S., but I did. Then, I was able to do enough damage that the engine stopped. Stalled us for a while.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d been parched and starving, his body numb from the cold air. His fingers were shaking when he sabotaged the engine and his chest ached sharply from a couple of broken ribs each time he took a deep breath.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They found me and knocked me unconscious.” He closes his eyes at the brutal memory. “And stuffed me into a barrel that they tossed into the water. After that, help came, pulled me out, and they were able to stop them. I guess they’d been trying to put an end to this group for a while.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma covers his hand with hers, soothing him. He meets her eyes, searching them for a moment.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I just knew I needed to get back to you. You kept me alive.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She leans into him, their foreheads touching. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, no,” Killian murmurs. “Don’t be sorry. It’s in the past. It’s already done.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If we’d stayed any longer…” She stops herself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He kisses the tip of her nose and then her forehead twice. “You and Henry got away safe. I survived. All that happened is just bad memories now.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He wraps his arms around her when she curls her body into his. He lowers his lips to her head, closing his eyes. She seems to have lost her words, but her being close to him is more than enough comfort.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As time goes on, he finds that they’ve started to breathe in unison.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I wish we could’ve had a happier beginning, my love, but I promise that we’ll have the happiest future, even when it’s hard.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She is quiet for a long time, so long that he very nearly falls asleep to the feeling of her breathing evenly against him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I love you.” Emma whispers.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That’s all that matters, isn’t it? They have each other. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I love you too.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian’s arm is draped directly over her belly, which makes Emma’s heart squeeze tightly in her chest. She feels his breath warm against her neck, and their legs are tangled beneath layers of blankets.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mary Margaret loved him at first sight. Meanwhile, David had kept his emotions close to his chest, hesitant to accept that <em>this</em> was the man Emma had been with for a month. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They fed him, gave him towels and fresh clothes to shower and change, and when it came time for bed, Mary Margaret practically sang him a lullaby. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David, not so much. But it was understandable.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her father has often admitted to her that this is the part of being a parent he had never been certain of: judging another man to be worthy of his daughter. With Neal, he’d been a little too unsure, to the point that he had to keep apologizing for not having protected her enough. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But with Killian, Emma finds herself worried that her dad won’t accept him regardless of who he is and how much he means to her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Turning to face Killian, she still allows him to hold her. His eyes open, one after the other, and a sweet smile dances playfully on his lips. “Morning.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma cards her fingers through his hair, biting at her lip. She hums. “Morning.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She listens for a few moments, wondering if her parents are awake yet. “Do you think my parents know you snuck up here?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, most definitely.” Killian says, making her laugh. “I made a lot of noise coming up the steps.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma scrunches up her nose and puts her hand on his cheek, preparing to kiss him. “Yeah. You kinda did.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian laughs into a sweet morning kiss, one of many she imagines are to come. The hope she has for their future is bright, and she knows he feels the same. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When they pull apart, Emma whispers, “It’s <em>Christmas</em>. Merry Christmas.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He awards her a soft smile, “Happy Christmas, love.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How does it feel? It’s your first Christmas away from the island in a long time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian chuckles. He pulls his hand up over his face and lies flat on his back. Turning his head to her, he says, “I’m just happy to be here with you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her heart very nearly melts. “<em>Killian</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Emma</em>.” He smirks when she gives him a daring look, her brow raised. “Truly, I am. I don’t need anything special.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You deserve something special.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She can tell he has something absolutely abhorrent to say before he even dares whisper it. “I do have something special. I have you. We have our little family. That’s enough for this Christmas.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Damn him. He’s far too charming for his good.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What about next Christmas?” she wonders, poking a little at what he’d said.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ve got big plans for next Christmas.” She lifts a curious eyebrow as he takes her hand. “We’ll be living in our house by then, so I figure we’ll have it decorated like Santa himself lives there.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma laughs. “Yeah?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Giant tree,” he says, gesturing out with his left arm, “Of course. In the foyer.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hums. “Yes. Of course. Go on.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lights everywhere. Garland will practically grow from our limbs.” She can’t help but laugh at the mental picture of Killian wrapped in garland. Killian smiles. “Oh, and we’ll have this nice Christmas dinnerware that your mum is going to give us as a wedding present.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma can’t help but smile at him silently. He stops orating, staring at her with bright eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did I mention we’re getting married soon?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She bites on her tongue, keeping her laughter at bay. “Soon, huh?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The tips of his ears turn pink with the slightest bit of embarrassment. He reaches for his ear, giving the spot behind it a nervous scratch. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, <em>I</em> think so.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma lets him squirm for a second or two before she kisses his cheek. “What else is going to happen next Christmas, when we’re married and living in our own house?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He takes a moment to gaze at her, sleepy, with a lopsided smile on his lips. His hair is such a riotous mess first thing in the morning, something she gets very nearly distracted by, were it not that he’s talking to her about their future and it’s the most heartwarming feeling she’s ever had.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Presents. Loads of them. Most for Henry, but at least half for you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma gives him a skeptical look. “That’s a lot.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well,” he smirks, “I hate to brag, but next Christmas, I have a wife and I worship the ground she walks on.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She laughs loud enough that she has a worried thought of waking someone. Emma slides close to Killian, putting her hand against his chest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, next Christmas, my only requests are that I want there to be stockings that we hang by the fire. Because we’re going to have a fireplace.” He nods in agreement. “And... I expect a lot of mistletoe kisses.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Anything you wish.” Killian kisses her chastely. “And magical snowflakes for the stockings will be safely stored in our freezer.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her heart squeezes longingly as she thinks about what next year might look like. One year from now, things will be so much different than they are today. Henry will be so much bigger. Killian will have settled into his new life in Storybrooke. They’ll have a <em>baby</em> of their own.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fondly, she thinks about what Henry might be like as a big brother. She hopes he’ll be gentle and kind. She knows Killian will be amazing. He’s proved as much with Henry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Next Christmas, what if we…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry stirs to life, blessedly pulling Emma out of anything she was about to say to Killian. She’s on her feet in an instant, going to find him in his crib.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Merry Christmas, Henry!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma’s mother busies herself in the kitchen even before he, Emma, and Henry join the family downstairs. She wears a bright red sweater and an even brighter smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Merry Christmas!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma’s wearing what she’d dubbed as her “cozy clothes”, an oversized Christmas sweater and leggings below. To his surprise, she dug into her things to find her thick rimmed glasses, something that makes her even more adorable to him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Merry Christmas, Mom.” Emma steps into the kitchen, coming alongside her mother. She’s still carrying Henry, so she’s careful as she gives her a side hug.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did you sleep well?” Mary Margaret wonders.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma hums. “Yeah. Pretty well.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When her mother turns back to what she’s doing in the kitchen, Emma meets his eyes and gives him a private smile. He winks back at her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dad still asleep?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m hoping we can wake him up with some Christmas breakfast. What do you think about cinnamon rolls?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sounds good.” Emma nods. She reaches into a cabinet for a bottle for Henry. “Hey, Killian?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He moves swiftly into the kitchen, already grabbing for Henry before she can ask twice.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you.” Emma gives Henry’s fingers a gentle squeeze as she smiles up at Killian. “I almost forgot how well we work together.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He laughs warmly and carries Henry to sit down at the kitchen island, bouncing the boy just a little trying to distract him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, Killian, Christmas day isn’t usually this laid back…” Mary Margaret says, turning from her bowl of ingredients. “We usually have a lot of guests and family stopping in throughout the day, but this year, we’re going to just keep it simple. We’ve all been through a lot. And I think it’ll be nice for Henry, too. We don’t need to overwhelm the baby.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma hums in agreement. “Last year there were forty people here at once.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s… a lot.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mary Margaret chuckles. “Well, David and I both come from bigger families. I have a lot of cousins I grew up with, and he has a twin with a family of his own. Not to mention all of the friends we have in town.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s not all that surprising to him that they’d be popular. In the short time he’s known David and Mary Margaret, they’ve been more than kind and hospitable. Well, except for David asking some tough probing questions.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He finds that Christmas is far more enjoyable here, amongst friendly faces, than it ever has been. While he doesn’t have any gifts to give or to receive, he does have plenty to be grateful for.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sits at his side for most of the day, both of them loathe to be apart. They’d spent hardly a month together, were separated just as long, and suddenly, they can’t get enough. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He can’t and won’t complain.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She runs her fingers through his hair, her nails gentle on his scalp, while they watch Henry playing with some toys David and Mary Margaret had given him. Every so often, he’ll look at her, a smile on his lips, and she’ll award him sweet kisses if her parents aren’t in view.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mary Margaret gives him far too much to eat and drink, and David peppers him with a series of questions that Emma rolls her eyes at.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, where are you thinking you’ll live?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dad.” Emma says, offended on his behalf. “Give him a break. He <em>just</em> got to town.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David returns her frustrated expression with one of his own. “I’m just curious!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian glances at Emma briefly, whose hands cover her face. She’s clearly mortified. “It’s okay. I don’t want to speak for Emma, but I was thinking once I find some work, we could find ourselves a house somewhere nearby.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David’s eyes widen a little. “Oh?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sighs. She stands, deciding to clean up the nearby coffee table to busy herself. “Maybe lay off until the holidays are over, okay? Then you can ask your million questions.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her father glares at Killian slightly before turning his attention to his daughter. “Sorry, Killian.” He sighs, a playful smile on his face. “I hate to say it, but I’ve been dreaming of this day for a long time. You haven’t given me the opportunity to interrogate any boyfriends before.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma snorts. “Yeah… for good reason. You’re scary when you’re Sheriff Nolan.” She pauses, looking at Killian for a second. “Besides, your interrogating isn’t going to scare this one off.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian winks at her before she takes what’s in her hands to the kitchen in the room beyond.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s my daughter. I have to.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dad… I can hear your glare from here.” Emma’s voice carries in from the other room. “We’re trying to have a nice Christmas.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m not glaring!” David calls out. He sighs, looking at Killian. “Sorry if I’m asking too many questions.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I understand. You’re curious.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m not…” David stops himself. “Okay, maybe a little. She was in a bad relationship… and I didn’t even realize how bad it was. I guess I’m overcompensating.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian smiles a little. “Rest assured, David. I have no intention of harming either Emma or Henry. I would do anything for them.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What are your intentions?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The abrupt nature of the question is jarring, but he can understand why David would wonder as much. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nervously, he scratches beneath his ear. “I don’t think it would come as any surprise if I told you I’m in this for the long haul.” Pausing, he considers his next words with a heavy, cautious heart. “I’ve thought about asking her to marry me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David seems at ease by what he’s saying, but still maintains a fatherly glare as the seconds seem to pass into minutes of silence.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know, I think I can ask my friend down at the docks about a job. If you’re interested. Mostly desk work during the winter, but later in the year, you’d be out on the water.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiles, nodding. “That’s awfully kind. Thank you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well,” David sighs, sitting back. “You’re part of my family now. I have to take care of you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian finds himself speechless. Years of living on his own, years of his childhood with only his brother at his side… and now, he has become enveloped in one of the most caring families he’s ever met.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He isn’t sure what he did to deserve this, but he’s certainly not upset. If anything, he feels unprepared to give back in kind. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But, maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe just accepting their kindness and welcoming arms is enough.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think they like me.” Killian says quietly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sits on the couch with Emma, the room entirely dark with the exception of the television. Her parents and Smee had gone to bed a while ago, leaving them to finish a Christmas movie on their own. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It had been a wonderful day, filled with sweets and laughs, good conversation and new traditions. And even without a single gift given to him, he feels as if the day had been rewarding in many ways. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma peers up at him. She’s wearing a blanket up to her chin, her head resting on a pillow over his lap. “Of course they do.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sits up and decisively stands. Yawning, she asks, “Bed?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Quickly, and as quietly as they can, they make their way upstairs. Before turning to the bed, they both approach Henry’s crib, settled against the nearby wall. He’s sound asleep, his arms sprawled out around his head while he breathes in evenly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d had a very busy day, filled with new toys and bright Christmas tree lights.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He’s so tired,” Emma murmurs. “He had a lot of fun today. I’m glad you could be here for his first Christmas.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian smiles softly. “Me too.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma bites on her lip and goes to sit on her bed, playing a little with a string from a quilt. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So… how are you handling all of this? Okay so far? You can be honest if you’re overwhelmed.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian smiles to himself. He joins her on her bed and sighs thoughtfully. “I had a perfect day. Thank you for looking out for me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I just don’t want you to feel like you made a mistake.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tilts his head to the side, upset that she would still think he would be doubting his choice to be in Storybrooke with her. “Emma…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know you love us and you won’t leave…” Emma whispers, “but my parents are the most important people to me after you and Henry, so… if they were too much, maybe we should’ve started out slower.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They weren’t. Trust me.” Killian assures her. He shakes his head. “They’re like the parents I’d always wanted.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sighs with relief. “I’m glad.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smiling again, Killian lifts his hand to gently tuck her hair behind her ear. He finds it sweet that she’d care as much as she does about making sure he’s adjusting well to the situation he’s now in.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hesitates with something in her mind. He can see it, how she bites on her lip and slowly shifts her gaze from the floor to him again. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’s wrong, love?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma turns toward him more. “I have to tell you something.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He reaches for her hand, shaking his head with concern. “Are you alright?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m okay.” Emma promises, quickly suffocating his fear. She searches his eyes. “Do you know how we were talking about next Christmas?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods, silent. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I wanted to ask you this morning…” Emma pauses. She winces a little, lifting her shoulder in a half shrug. “How would you feel if… we had a new baby next Christmas too?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He can’t help but laugh in surprise, lifting his eyebrows. “Erm… that would require… a little extra effort on our part to make sure it happened in time, I think.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma stares at him, nodding. She smiles nervously, as if wanting him to read her mind. He can’t, no matter how hard he tries. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He scratches beneath his ear, feeling himself get a little embarrassed, though he tries to play it off as coy, “I imagine your parents would hate it if we started trying right this minute, darling.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rolls her eyes. “That’s not...” Emma takes his hand, bringing it over her belly. “I’m pregnant.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His eyes grow wide in shock. His mind races while he tries to calculate what exactly she’s saying to him. “You’re… pregnant? A <em>baby</em>?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods and laughs with an adorable wrinkle in her nose. She has tears in her eyes now.  “Yeah. We’re having a baby. You and me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He laughs along with her in disbelief. This certainly wasn’t something he expected to hear from her, much less so soon in their relationship. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you sure?” he asks. He’s still calculating, trying to understand <em>how</em>. “I… we haven’t… we only…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s... our gift from the island?” Emma says diplomatically, her eyebrow lifted along with the nervous inflection of her voice. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian laughs again, shaking his head slowly. “I’m shocked.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma nods in agreement, eyes wide. “I just found out and I’ve been having a hard time wrapping my head around it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sighs, seeming to have held onto a breath for a long time. “I was going to try to wait to tell you, but I couldn’t. All day, I’ve been thinking how next year, it’ll be so different because there will be a <em>baby</em>, you know? We’ll have a little baby and Henry’s going to be a lot bigger and…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods, chuckling at how she’s started to babble.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I needed to tell you before I went crazy.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His hand is still pressed to her belly, thumb caressing. Emma leans into him, pressing her forehead against his.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you happy?” she asks, clearly uncertain and nervous. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Am I happy?” he repeats her question with a laugh. He pulls away just slightly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes. Yes. <em>Yes</em>.” He joyfully kisses Emma’s forehead between words before kissing her soundly on the lips, hoping she can tell that he’s more than happy. “It’s unexpected, but… I’m very happy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her gaze is soft and her fingers are gentle on his cheek. “I am too.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d lost literally <em>everything</em> he loved before he settled into his life of isolation. The island had given him nothing but dark gray skies for years, until one day, Emma and Henry arrived. And now, a <em>baby</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian takes a deep, clean breath of his future. There’s something so wonderful in the air: a new life, a fresh start, a new beginning. He has nothing but time to enjoy it all.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a/n: it seems everyone wants an epilogue! Pretty much all fluff, so if that’s not your thing, I’m not sure how you got here… haha </p>
<p>Thanks for all of your support again. I really, really appreciate all of your kind words and gestures of kindness. Hope you like this epilogue!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <em>“We’ll buy a house in Storybrooke and adopt a dog. We’ll give Henry a few brothers and sisters. Your parents will adore me. And we’ll spend far too much time forgetting that any of this ever happened. But, I do reckon we’ll argue about paint chips while we’re working on remodeling the house. Unfortunately.”</em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>///</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Epilogue</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <em> <strong>SPRING</strong> </em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>In early spring, Killian and Emma buy a house a few blocks away from her parents, not wanting to be too far from town, but still needing their own space. </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s a beautiful home on the corner, with a huge backyard and a generous floor plan. There are three bedrooms that they can fill with children, or so Killian imagines. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He learns that Emma really likes big windows to let light in, and he tells her that it makes sense, because since they met, she’d brought a lot of light into his life. She rolls her eyes at him, but he knows she appreciates it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There isn’t a lot to unpack on the first day, with the sum total of their furniture coming from Emma’s abandoned apartment. They don’t need much. Not yet.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He finds Emma sitting in their bedroom once Henry’s been put to sleep in his own bedroom just up the hall. She seems tired, maybe a little emotionally worn out from everything that happened.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey,” Killian says, sitting beside her. He rubs her lower back, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You alright, love?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma meets his eyes, giving him a small smile. “Yeah. I’m just tired. It was a long day.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hums knowingly. They stare at one another for a few moments, silent. Killian finds that he can’t stop grinning. This has been a day he’s looked forward to for a while. The opportunity to live in a beautiful home with his family is beyond exciting.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We should get married.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Married</em>?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods, hoping she knows he’s serious. Killian stands up so he can kneel in front of her. “I love you so much, Emma. I want you to know I’ll always, always be by your side. Will you marry me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She tilts her head to the side just slightly. Her eyes become watery and she reaches for his hand to squeeze it. “I can’t argue with that.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is that a yes?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma laughs a little. “Yes. It is.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They decide to have their wedding as quickly as they can, not wanting to waste any time. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The idea both confuses and delights her parents. Mary Margaret immediately wants to help, something Emma is grateful for, and David questions him for about an hour in the privacy of his study about his true intentions.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Over the course of a few far too short weeks, Killian works on fixing a few odds and ends around the house while Emma plans an intimate wedding for them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He learns her natural routines and schedules. Tries to fit as much time in with her as he can in between work and trying to prepare for both a wedding and a baby.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She introduces him to her friends. Belle the town librarian, Robin and Regina the happily married barkeepers, and Ruby the fashion designer. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He meets friends of his own at work at the harbor, too. Will, who keeps him on his toes, and Graham who would rather work in the forest. They go for beers on nights when Emma’s friends are over helping with wedding prep.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He can’t help but laugh when they clash heads over paint chips. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’s right. Of course she’s right. She always is.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They form traditions out of game nights and group dinners. Their friends watch Henry on occasion, and in turn, Killian offers them free outings on the water on a ship that he helps run as part of his job.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They get married at the end of the spring, under a canopy of flowers and hanging twinkle lights, in Emma’s parent’s backyard. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry wears a little suit to match Killian’s, while Emma makes the most stunning bride in a white dress that flows to the ground. She’s glowing, absolutely radiant, though she worries that her baby bump is too obvious to keep hiding it from everyone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>So, once they say “I do”, and find themselves slow dancing at the party afterward, Killian asks in a low whisper pressed to her ear, “Are you ready to tell Mom and Dad?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma laughs a little, leaning her head back so she can meet his eyes. “You’re going to call them that all the time now, aren’t you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If it will irritate your father, absolutely.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His wife- <em>his wife</em>!- tilts her head at him, giving him a soft sigh of disapproval. “We should tell them. Mom’s going to flip.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mary Margaret does, in fact, <em>flip</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em> <strong>SUMMER</strong> </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The summer brings them a new friend called Wilby, who enjoys bones, licking Henry’s toes, and long walks along the beach. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Summer brings a nasty sticky heat and messy ice cream cones. Henry’s favorite flavor is chocolate. Emma’s is mint chocolate chip, which she eats by the pint balanced on her pronounced baby bump. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In the summer, there are fireworks on the Fourth of July, town celebrations, visits to Granny’s Diner for lunch during Emma’s time off work, outings on boats, trips to the beach, and nights spent sitting outside with friends that seem to always be over to visit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma’s sitting in the grass with Henry and Mary Margaret, laughing genuinely at her mother while she squeezes their son’s hands. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ruby’s running around with Wilby, complaining about how massive the yard is, while Belle and Will sit at the picnic table with Robin, Regina, and a pack of cards.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So.” Neal says, a gentle unassuming smile on his face, approaching Killian at his spot on the back porch steps. “It’s been a few months. What’s it like, being married?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neal offers him a cold beer. He takes it, shaking his head while he laughs. “Why? Are you thinking of getting married soon?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neal sits beside him, sighing as he drapes his arms around his knees at chest level. “Maybe.” He sips his drink. “So what’s it like?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If he had to define it, he doesn’t think he could. It’s not been without its highs and lows, but for the most part, they’ve enjoyed peace. He thinks they deserve it, after everything that they’ve been through.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Again, Killian shakes his head. He stares at Emma, at the way she throws her head back to laugh at something Ruby says to her. At the soft stray curls of her ponytail. At the gentle swell of her body in the seventh month of pregnancy.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He can tell even from several feet away that she’s glowing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s home.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neal considers him briefly. He hums into his bottle and has another sip. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s a bit awkward, because he and Neal haven’t shared as much time together as they should. In fact, if he thinks about it, he and Neal hardly know one another. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All he knows is that Emma and Neal were once in a troubled relationship, and now they were friends. If they could even call it that.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you.” Neal says with a tiny smile. “For giving her everything she needs. God knows I was never enough for her.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian isn’t sure what to say, so he smiles back before looking ahead again. “How did you meet Emma?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neal seems to think about it, maybe searching for a good place to start. He takes a steadying breath to prepare for whatever he’s about to say. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I lost my parents growing up. Mom… ran off with another guy and Dad went criminally insane.” He stares down at his beer. “Left me to fend for myself. I met Emma at a gas station in Washington state. She was on the run like me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian found himself surprised. Knowing what he did about Neal, he hadn’t thought too deeply about his background. It surprised him even more to think that he could understand him. After all, he himself was running from the whole world. For <em>years</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What were you running from?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neal shakes his head. He laughs in spite of himself, a soft chuckle from his nose. “I still don’t know, man.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He clears his throat and sets the bottle down on the step beside him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was the same way. Running. Hiding.” Killian admits. He shakes his head. “That hole in your chest doesn’t go away, does it? Nothing helps.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neal clenches his jaw as he averts his gaze. “No.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On a soft breath, Killian stands and finds a football in the grass nearby. He kicks it toward Neal to get his attention. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The last time he’d played football was with Liam, years ago, but it was clear to him that Neal needed something powerful to pull him out of himself. He needed a brother.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My brother and I used to kick the ball back and forth until the sun went down.” Killian reminisced. He tipped his head back toward the yard. “What do you say?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neal offers him a shrug. “I might be rusty… but sure.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On their way into the yard, Killian stops to help Emma to her feet. She sways into him, caught off balance, and he chuckles, asking, “You okay, love?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hums, sighing softly. “Just a little lopsided.” Emma glances past him at Neal, who now has the ball scooped up onto the top of his shoe. “You guys are going to kick the soccer ball around?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“For just a little while.” Killian says. “Time to finally get some use out of the yard.” He notices her attention rests on the man from her past. “Okay?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s fine,” she assures him. “I’m glad you’re making friends.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Later that night, while he and Emma prepare for bed in the bathroom, he lifts his eyebrow at her in the mirror. “Are you sure you’re alright with me befriending Neal?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma stops brushing her teeth to spit into the sink. When she finishes rinsing her mouth, she shrugs. “It’s just a little weird, but it’s fine.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Like… <em>how</em>, weird?” Killian wonders. He turns around so he can lean against the bathroom counter with his hand over his opposite wrist.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His wife sighs. She presses her hands to her lower back. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m nervous that now that things are finally kind of normal between us, something will change.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So Neal feels weird to you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma cringes at that. “No. Not really.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian hums. “Did you know that he’s taking online classes? He’s trying to get a degree to teach.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her eyes widen in surprise. “No. I didn’t.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think he’s changed. For the better.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma turns to look for something on the counter. “Well, then all the best to you and your new bromance. You have my blessing.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He rolls his eyes, smiling, and steps away from the sinks so he can kiss her temple. “You don’t have to be okay with it if you’re not.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He needs a friend. You’re the best one I can think of around here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With a clever little smirk, Killian lifts a brow. “Are you saying I’m your best friend?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma, clearly exhausted, rolls her eyes. Hard. “Killian, I’m carrying your child.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And you’re doing it so well, my dear.” Killian offers her a kiss. “I love you. You’re my best friend. In case you were wondering.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A little blush finds her cheeks and her lashes flutter against her cheeks. “You’re my best friend too.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em> <strong>FALL</strong> </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Storybrooke in the autumn is gorgeous, and it’s Emma’s very favorite thing. She tells him she loves the way the colors turn the streets burnt orange and red, and even though he’s seen fall before, he swears it’s so much better through her eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She asks him to take them for a drive through the forest on Sunday afternoons so they can show Henry the colors of the trees while Wilby hangs out the window, tongue wagging in the wind. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On mildly cold nights, she comes to bed wearing her bright red flannel pajamas and socks, explaining that she’s freezing, but an hour later she’ll change because she’s too hot.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry likes the leaves that pile up in their backyard. He <em>really</em> likes the pumpkin bread that Mary Margaret brings over for them to share, and the way David’s pickup truck sounds when it starts.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The autumn is when Emma goes into labor. She grits her teeth and tells him as much while she’s trying to fold laundry one late afternoon. It’s a blur of lights and colors and sounds. A blur of long hours standing and sitting at her side. A blur of emotions when it’s finally time to push. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Brushing back her sweaty hair from her face, allowing her to squeeze the circulation out of his one and only hand, encouraging her as much as she’ll let him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And when it happens, when the first cries break the surface tension, everything else fades away. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ten tiny fingers. Ten tiny toes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pointy little ears and soft dark hair. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Shrieks that turn into gentle whimpers. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma, Emma, Emma.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He kisses her soundly and whispers, “You did it. I’m so proud of you, love.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She laughs a little, her eyes filled with tears. She’s unable to look away from the newborn on her chest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s so beautiful.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re welcome.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma looks up at him with a glare.</p>
  <p>He chuckles. “I’m only teasing. She clearly gets it all from you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His heart has never been as full as it is that early autumn morning, standing in a hospital room with his newborn daughter in his arms and his life forever changed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The town throws an autumn festival, full of games and food along Main Street. There’s a hayride that one of his closest friends, Robin, takes them on free of charge.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There are fewer things he thinks are sweeter than seeing his son in a Halloween costume a few weeks later, dressed up like Peter Pan, except maybe seeing his newborn daughter as Tinkerbell.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For many years on the island, Killian ignored holidays. There was no need to celebrate when it was just him, and even fewer reasons while he wallowed in sorrow and grief. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There were a lot of reasons to be thankful this Thanksgiving. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Friends</em>. <em>Family</em>. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It had been so long since he’d had either, but it felt like he’d known them forever. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Finally gathered around the dining table, Killian takes a long look around at the faces of his friends and family. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma sits with their daughter in a wrap pressed to her chest, her soft swaths of dark hair peeking out on top, so gentle and sweet. Henry sits between them, happily digging into his meal without any thought. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’d like to make a toast.” Killian says, standing. He clears his throat. “Thank you for being here. It means a lot to Emma and I that you would choose to come to our home and spend today with us. That’s sort of what I’d like to toast, actually, uh… not all of you know this, but for a good portion of my life, I chose to isolate myself. I literally lived on an island. I had nothing to celebrate, and I didn’t want to, either.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pausing, he meets Emma’s eyes and returns her smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But this year, I have so much to celebrate. And I want to thank all of you for that. You welcomed me into your community without a second thought. I’m thankful this year for my family.” He looks to his children, then to David and Mary Margaret. He turns to the rest of the table. “And for your friendship. Without it, I would be as lost as I once was.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, a toast, to the community we have. And to living a life worth celebrating.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Here here!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>/</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em> <strong>WINTER</strong> </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Winter brings him full circle. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On the first snowfall of the year, Killian wakes to Emma’s excited gasps and her hands on his arm, shaking him awake.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s <em>snowing</em>! Killian, it’s <em>snowing</em>!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’s out of bed faster than he can open his eyes all the way, already rushing up the hall to get their son out of his crib. With a small smile, he waits for her to return, both of their children in her arms.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’s breathless, her hair still a mess from sleep, yet she’s smiling so happily. “Come on, Daddy, we gotta go out and get some of the snow!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry giggles. “Daddy go!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They work as a team to prepare the children for their first snow of the year, and the moment they step outside, Emma turns to him, absolutely beaming.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s been a year. A year since the ocean brought her to him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He can still remember the day she asked him to take her out into the first snow of the season, her eyes shining just as much as they do now. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She doesn’t have to say anything for him to know that this is a meaningful day for her. For them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In one sense, the first snow is a reminder of the beginning of their relationship. The day they’d started to see one another as they truly were.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If there’s anything this year has taught him, there’s a lot to love about learning Emma and Henry in a world far from the chilly, wintery sea.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Henry <em>loves</em> the snow. He catches snowflakes on his mittens and keeps calling out for them to show them. And then there’s footprints in the snow, and tasting snow, and falling in the snow. Crying because the snow is too cold, but laughing the moment he’s safe in Killian’s arms.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And when they go back inside, all Henry wants to do is rush straight back out into it again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Storybrooke at Christmastime is a feast of colors, foods, and celebration. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They spend a lot of time with family and friends, gathered together at Granny’s for her special holiday menu. Killian and Emma build a snowman that Henry helps them decorate. Mary Margaret and David help them find the perfect, massive tree that goes in their foyer.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On Christmas morning, well before the children have stirred, his wife finds him sitting in front of the fireplace, lined with stockings, reading a book that he swore he’d read months ago. When he was on the island, he could read several books in one sitting. Now, not so much.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I have a present for you.” Emma says, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian lifts an eyebrow. “It’s not Christmas until the children are up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She laughs into his ear and then joins him on the sofa, a wrapped gift in her hands. “I know… just trust me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His mind races, unsure of what this secret gift could possibly be that it would require him to just trust her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Taking a deep breath, she extends the present toward him. “I’ve been working on this all year.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hesitates, his thumb finding the crease in the wrapping paper corner. “Oh, so no pressure, then.” He winks at her, smirking. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Quickly, he pulls the paper away from what lies beneath. At first, he isn’t sure what he’s looking at. It’s a hardcover book with the word “Journal” in sprawling cursive on the front.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He flips the book open, curious.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On the first page, there’s a date, a small entry, and a photograph. The date is Christmas Eve, only a year ago, and the entry reads:</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Today, you told me that you were home here. This journal is going to be a document of that. </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The photo is of he, Emma, and Henry sitting in their favorite booth at Granny’s. He remembers Mary Margaret insisting that they take a picture on his very first day in town. Now, he’s glad he has it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>While he looked absolutely miserable physically, he can still remember not feeling any pain until he had to lie down to sleep that night. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He flips the page. Another entry. The following day.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“I don’t think I’m fond of peppermint, Emma.” But you still smelled like peppermint all day today. </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian laughs under his breath, smirking at the photo she’d clearly taken of him incognito, biting a candy cane.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He continues to flip through the journal, addicted to seeing Emma’s insights of their experiences.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>We argued over paint chips for exactly 3 minutes before you doubled over laughing and let me choose all the right shades of white. Thank you.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A photo of the paint chips in question follows.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian continues turning the pages until he finds one day in particular that finally pulls him out of the gift.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Their wedding day.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>You smelled like the ocean today.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A photo of he and Henry standing on the beach much later in the night follows. They’re both barefoot, standing in the sea foam. He hadn’t realized she was taking pictures. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Looking up at Emma, he finds her nervously biting on her lower lip.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You did this <em>everyday</em>?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nods. “Yeah.” He flips the page. “Just like your mom’s journal. Except this one, I hope, gives you different feelings when you look at it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian hums. “It does.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He can’t help but smile, studying a photo of his son kissing Emma’s growing bump just a few months ago. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Look at today.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He does as she asks, flipping all the way to the end of the journal. The final entry is a little bit longer than the others he’s had the time to read.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>This year, you: bought a house, got married, got a new job, made a lot of friends, had a baby, adopted a dog, watched a lot of cable TV, celebrated every holiday, loved your kids with everything you had, and spent every day in between making a difference. Thank you for choosing us, Killian.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A photo of him and the children sitting at the breakfast table follows. His baby daughter in one arm, Killian’s singing one of those silly nursery rhymes along with Henry, who sits at the table beside him, beaming brightly with crinkles by his eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He remembers the giggles, the fit of laughter that came from Henry’s belly, and the way his sticky fingers felt against his cheeks and lips when he leaned in close enough. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The photo is pure <em>joy</em>. A true encapsulation of the year they’ve shared.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Like before, he isn’t sure how Emma went unnoticed taking this picture, but he’s glad she did. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This year was special for a lot of reasons, but the biggest reason is that it was your first year away from the island.” Emma says. “And I wanted to give you something that proved that it was worth it. That proved you were here and it mattered.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looks up at her, tears welling in his eyes. He manages to smile softly at her. “Thank you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emma puts her right hand on his face, rubbing her thumb against the apple of his cheek. “I know I’ve said it before, but thank you for being there that day. For me and Henry. This book is proof that we’re here, too.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Killian turns his head to kiss her palm. He sets the book aside and determinedly lays Emma back on the sofa with his lips pressed to hers. She runs her fingers through his hair as they languidly share a stolen moment, free of distraction and interruption.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before he can get too carried away, Killian breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against Emma’s. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She bites on her lip after her tongue darts out to soothe it, a twinkle in her eye. “What was that for?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“For giving this year to me.” He looks into her eyes, cocking an eyebrow. “Quite literally.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hums sweetly, tugging at his hair. “Here’s to seventy more, my love.”</p>
</div>
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